dn't a said a word, only I thought if I gave you a hint of Aunt
Lucinder's queer ways you'd know better how to get along with her." I
had always thought all women like my own mild-speaking mother and kind
old Mrs. Judson, but by this time I began to think Aunt Lucinda must
differ very widely from them; and when I followed Uncle Nathan into the
clean wide kitchen where a bountiful supper awaited our arrival, I felt
somehow as though I was stepping upon dangerous ground, and I almost
feared to set my foot down lest it might chance to be in the wrong
place. Aunt Lucinda, however, gave me a much more kindly welcome than I
had feared, which I regarded as a favourable omen. She also introduced
me to the notice of my aged grandmother who was seated in her deep
arm-chair in the corner. She has seen more than eighty years of life, but
as she sits there, day by day, in her quiet decrepitude, she still
pretends to a superintendence of the labors of Aunt Lucinda in a way
that might sometimes provoke a smile. She seems not to realize that my
uncle and aunt are themselves middle aged gray-haired people, and still
calls them her boy and girl. When made aware who I was my grandmother
seemed delighted to see me, and talked long and affectionately of my
mother whom she had not seen for many years. Aunt Lucinda was busily
employed at the ironing-board, but looked often to see that her mother's
wants were all supplied; nothing could exceed the affection and care she
seemed to bestow upon her aged parent, indulging every whim, so that the
old lady hardly can realize that she is old and almost helpless. We were
soon seated at the supper table, and they all must have had the idea
that I had brought with me from Elmwood a most unheard-of appetite, if
I could judge by the quantities of food they insisted upon piling on
my plate. Aunt Lucinda treated me with a good degree of kindness, but
evidently kept a sharp eye to all my movements, doubtless expecting that
in a short time I would break out in some flagrant misdemeanor, when she
would be called to open hostilities. Poor Aunt Lucinda, you had little
to fear from the homesick boy who sat in the purple twilight, leaning
his elbows upon the window-sill, thinking of his now far-distant mother
and sister, and his loved companion, Charley Gray. As I sat there a line
of light in the eastern sky gradually became brighter, till the full
round moon rose to view, bathing the whole scene in a flood of silver