rm waiting for the arrival
of her nephew's train. She was dressed in a very becoming pale blue
tweed and had wrapped a silk muffler of a rather brighter blue round
her neck. Her brown shoes, though strong, were very well made and
neat. Between them and her skirt was a considerable stretch of knitted
stocking, blue like the tweed. Her ankles were singularly well-formed
and comely. The afternoon had turned out to be fine and she had taken
some trouble about her dress before setting out to meet a strange nephew
whom she had not seen since he was five years old. She might have taken
more trouble still if the nephew had been anything more exciting than a
nerve-shattered poet.

The train steamed in at last. Only one passenger got out of a
first-class carriage. Mrs. MacDermott looked at him in doubt. He was
not in the least the sort of man she expected to see. Poets, so she
understood, have long hair and sallow, clean-shaven faces. This young
man's head was closely-cropped and he had a fair moustache. He was
smartly dressed in well-fitting clothes. Poets are, or ought to be,
sloppy in their attire. Also, judged by the colour of his cheeks and
his vigorous step, this man was in perfect health. Mrs. MacDermott
approached him with some hesitation. The young man was standing in
the middle of the platform looking around. His eyes rested on Mrs.
MacDermott for a moment, but passed from her again. He was expecting
someone whom he did not see.

"Are you Bertram Connell, by any chance?" asked Mrs. MacDermott.

"That's me," said the young man, "and I'm expecting an aunt to meet me.
I say, are you a cousin? I didn't know I had a cousin."

The mistake was an excusable one. Mrs. MacDermott looked very young and
pretty in her blue tweed. She appreciated the compliment paid her all
the more because it was obviously sincere.

"You haven't any cousins," she said. "Not on your father's side, anyway.
I'm your aunt."

"Aunt Nell!" he said, plainly startled by the information. "Great Scott!
and I thought----"

He paused and looked at Mrs. MacDermott with genuine surprise. Then he
recovered his self-possession. He put his arm round her neck and kissed
her heartily, first on one cheek, then on the other.

Aunts are kissed by their nephews every day as a matter of course. They
expect it. Mrs. MacDermott had not thought about the matter beforehand.
If she had she would have taken it for granted that Bertram would kiss
her, occasionally, unco