and a burn.

"Yes; she wrote that she was too feeble to come at present, as she had
such dreadful palpitations she didn't dare stir from her room. So we
are quite safe for the next week at least, and--bless my soul, there
she is now!"

Mrs. Snow clasped her hands with a gesture of dismay, and sat as if
transfixed by the spectacle of a ponderous lady, in an awe-inspiring
bonnet, who came walking slowly down the street. Polly gave a groan,
and pulled a bright ribbon from her hair. Toady muttered, "Oh,
bother!" and vainly attempted to polish up his countenance with a
fragmentary pocket-handkerchief.

"Nothing but salt fish for dinner," wailed Mrs. Snow, as the shadow of
the coming event fell upon her.

"Van will make a fool of himself, and ruin everything," sighed Polly,
glancing at the ring on her finger.

"I know she'll kiss me; she never _will_ let a fellow alone," growled
Toady, scowling darkly.

The garden gate clashed, dust flew from the door-mat, a heavy step
echoed in the hall, an imperious voice called "Sophy!" and Aunt Kipp
entered with a flourish of trumpets, for Toady blew a blast through
his fingers which made the bows totter on her bonnet.

"My dear aunt, I'm very glad to see you," murmured Mrs. Snow,
advancing with a smile of welcome; for though as weak as water gruel,
she was as kind-hearted a little woman as ever lived.

"What a fib that was!" said Toady, _sotto voce_.

"We were just saying we were afraid you wouldn't"--began Mary, when a
warning, "Mind now, Polly," caused her to stop short and busy herself
with the newcomer's bag and umbrella.

"I changed my mind. Theodore, come and kiss me," answered Aunt Kipp,
briefly.

"Yes'm," was the plaintive reply, and, closing his eyes, Toady awaited
his fate with fortitude.

But the dreaded salute did not come, for Aunt Kipp exclaimed in
alarm,--

"Mercy on us! has the boy got the plague?"

"No'm, it's paint, and dirt, and glue, and it _won't_ come off," said
Toady, stroking his variegated countenance with grateful admiration
for the stains that saved him.

"Go and wash this moment, sir. Thank Heaven, _I've_ got no boys,"
cried Aunt Kipp. as if boys were some virulent disease which she had
narrowly escaped.

With a hasty peck at the lips of her two elder relatives, the old lady
seated herself, and slowly removed the awful bonnet, which in shape
and hue much resembled a hearse hung with black crape.

"I'm glad you are better," said Mary, r