Mrs. Langley, or 'Aunt Maggie,' as the children had been taught to call
her, had been their mother's greatest friend and nearest neighbour,
and during their mother's lifetime they had felt almost as much at home in
her house as in their own. Little Margaret, indeed, had been called after
her.

Altogether life was very, very different now, and to Bella's mind the
present seemed anything but a happy time.

She sat on the step to-day, and looked soberly at the sky. The weather
was dull and gloomy, with a moisture in the air which would entirely keep
the clothes from drying; and a bad drying day is in itself enough to try
the temper of the most amiable of washerwomen.

"Oh, I do wish the sun would shine," she thought anxiously; "it would make
such a difference." Bella spent her days in a state of mingled hope and
dread--hope that things would happen to please her aunt, and dread of
things happening to ruffle her.

The baker's cart drew up at the gate, and the man, springing lightly down,
came up the garden-path with a basket of loaves. "Now she will be vexed
at having to answer the door," thought Bella. "I wish I knew what bread
to take in."

That, however, was more than she dare do, so she contented herself with
going in, to warn her aunt of the baker's approach.

"The baker is coming, Aunt Emma," she said quietly.

"Well, s'posing he is! Surely you'm old enough to take the bread from
him; or do you want me to do it while you look on? It won't soil your
hands to touch a loaf of bread."

"How many loaves shall I take in?" asked Bella patiently.

"Oh, I don't know! I don't know what we've got, and I can't stay to see.
Three would do, I should hope."

Bella looked at the baker's basket, and her spirit sank; there were pale
loaves and brown ones, and loaves of all shapes. Which should she take?
Which would please her aunt? At last she picked up what she thought was a
nice tempting-looking one. Surely that would do for one, she thought.

The baker interposed. "Miss Hender don't like that shape," he said
shortly; "she thinks 'em too crusty. Most folks prefer 'em," he added
meaningly.

Bella laid down the loaf and took up another.

"Miss Hender don't----" the man began again, but stopped. What did it
matter to him, he thought, what the cross-grained woman liked or didn't
like? He had trouble enough when she came to the door herself; so he
hastily put two other loaves in Bella's hands, and left as qui