e pantry. "You must let other
folks be the judge of what is best for you now. You aren't strong enough
to drive to Kensington, and, even if you were, you know well enough that
William couldn't go to Kensington to-morrow night. He has got to attend
that political meeting at Newbridge. They can't do without him."

"Jordan could take me to Kensington," pleaded Aunty Nan, with very
unusual persistence.

"Nonsense! You couldn't go to Kensington with the hired man. Now, Aunty
Nan, do be reasonable. Aren't William and I kind to you? Don't we do
everything for your comfort?"

"Yes, oh, yes," admitted Aunty Nan deprecatingly.

"Well, then, you ought to be guided by our opinion. And you must just
give up thinking about the Kensington concert, Aunty, and not worry
yourself and me about it any more. I am going down to the shore field
now to call William to tea. Just keep an eye on the baby in chance he
wakes up, and see that the teapot doesn't boil over."

Mrs. William whisked out of the kitchen, pretending not to see the tears
that were falling over Aunty Nan's withered pink cheeks. Aunty Nan was
really getting very childish, Mrs. William reflected, as she marched
down to the shore field. Why, she cried now about every little
thing! And such a notion--to want to go to the Old Timers' concert at
Kensington and be so set on it! Really, it was hard to put up with her
whims. Mrs. William sighed virtuously.

As for Aunty Nan, she sat alone in the kitchen, and cried bitterly, as
only lonely old age can cry. It seemed to her that she could not bear
it, that she MUST go to Kensington. But she knew that it was not to be,
since Mrs. William had decided otherwise. Mrs. William's word was law at
Gull Point Farm.

"What's the matter with my old Aunty Nan?" cried a hearty young voice
from the doorway. Jordan Sloane stood there, his round, freckled face
looking as anxious and sympathetic as it was possible for such a very
round, very freckled face to look. Jordan was the Morrisons' hired boy
that summer, and he worshipped Aunty Nan.

"Oh, Jordan," sobbed Aunty Nan, who was not above telling her troubles
to the hired help, although Mrs. William thought she ought to be, "I
can't go to Kensington to-morrow night to hear little Joscelyn sing at
the Old Timers' concert. Maria says I can't."

"That's too bad," said Jordan. "Old cat," he muttered after the
retreating and serenely unconscious Mrs. William. Then he shambled in
and sat down on