ysiognomist as well as a phrenologist. Robert
taught me the principles. She's almost divinely lovely. I say almost,
for, of course, she'll be still lovelier when she goes to Heaven. Her
well-shaped head indicates a strong, active, inventive mind, while her
pure heart and clean soul are mirrored in her sweet face. She is a good
foil for you, Quincy. You are almost dark enough for a Spaniard or an
Italian, while she is Goethe's ideal Marguerite."

It was not necessary for Quincy to ask to whom she referred, nor to
praise her powers of discernment. It was Aunt Ella's time for talking,
and she was not inclined to brook any interference. So she went on.

"I want you to bring her here to me and have Rosa What-d'yer-call-her
come with her. Here they can work and play until you get the nest ready
for her down to Nantucket. You say she plays and sings. I love music
passionately, but I can't play a note, even on a jew's-harp; but if she
plays a wrong note I shall feel inclined to call her attention to it.
When I used to go to the theatre with Robert, I delighted in telling him
how badly some of the members of the orchestra were playing, but I
repented of it. He got in the habit of going out between the acts to
escape the music, he said, and I never could keep him in his seat after
that."

Quincy laughed heartily at this. "I see no way of stopping this bad
habit that gentlemen have of going out between the acts," said he,
"unless you ladies combine, and insist on a higher grade of orchestral
excellence."

"I have a large library," continued Aunt Ella, "and she may find many
books in it that will be of use to her. Robert spent eighteen thousand
dollars on it, and I've bought a couple of thousand dollars' worth more
since his death. Now, what do you say, Quincy? You know I will do all in
my power to make her comfortable and happy while she is here. If Maude
runs up, and she's the only one that is likely to, I will tell her that
I have friends here from England. I will keep her out of the way. Will
you bring her?"

"If she will come, I will," Quincy replied.

"You will never repent it," said Aunt Ella. "Now let us go upstairs."

When they reached her room the cigars and cigarettes were again in
requisition.

"I kept my promise the other day, Quincy," said she, "when the three
girls were here. What a sweet, rosy-cheeked, healthy, happy trio they
were! I wasn't more than twenty myself that day. I give you my solemn
promise, Q