bag upstairs? Take it gently, Milly, it's got my
cap inside, and if you crumple my cap I shall have to sit with my head
in a bandbox at dinner. Old ladies are _never_ seen without their caps
you know. The most dreadful things would happen if they were! Olly, you
may put my umbrella away. There now, I'll go to mother's room and take
off my things."

CHAPTER VII

A STORY-TELLING GAME

When Aunt Emma was safely settled, cap and all, in one of the
drawing-room arm-chairs, it seemed to the children as if the rain and
the gray sky did not matter nearly so much as they had done half an hour
before. In the first place, her coming made something new and
interesting to think about; and in the second place, they felt quite
sure that Aunt Emma hadn't brought her little black bag into the
drawing-room with her for nothing. If only her cap had been in it, why
of course she would have left it in mother's bedroom. But here it was in
her lap, with her two hands folded tight over it, as if it contained
something precious! How very puzzling and interesting!

However, for a long time it seemed as if Aunt Emma had nothing at all to
say about her bag. She began to tell them about her drive--how in two
places the horse had to go splashing through the water, and how once,
when they were crossing a little river that ran across the road, the
water came so far up the wheels that "I put my head out of the window,"
said Aunt Emma, "and said to my old coachman, 'Now, John, if it's going
to get any deeper than this, you'd better turn him round and go home,
for I'm an old woman, not a fish, and I can't swim. Of course, if the
horse can swim with the carriage behind him it's all right, but I have
my doubts.' Now John, my dears, has been with me a great many years, and
he knows very well that I'm rather a nervous old woman. It's very sad,
but it is so. Don't you be nervous when you're old people. So all he
said was 'All right, ma'am. Bless you, he can swim like a trout.' And
crack went the whip, splash went the water! It seemed to me it was just
going to come in under the door, when, lo and behold! there we were safe
and sound on dry ground again. But whether my old horse swam through or
walked through I can't tell you. I like to believe he swam, because I'm
so fond of him, and one likes to believe the creatures one loves can do
clever things."

"I'll ask John when he comes to take you away, Aunt Emma," said Olly. "I
don't believe horses c