d she may have been a maiden
aunt--there's no reason why she shouldn't have been--and her nephew may
have broken her heart by his bad ways.'

'What did he do?' asked Godfrey earnestly.

'It may have been what he didn't do,' said Betty impressively. 'Not
learning things that were for his good, and--and that sort of thing.'

'When people's hearts break do you hear them crack?' was the next
question.

'No, you don't hear anything,' said Betty solemnly; 'the people get
paler and paler and thinner and thinner every day, till at last they
die.'

'You ar'n't thin, Aunt Betty,' remarked the nephew, with satisfaction.

'Not now, perhaps,' said the aunt, with dignity, 'but I might soon get
thin with lying awake thinking sad things about little boys.'

'Do you lie awake thinking of me not learning about succouring you and
Cousin Crayshaw?'

'I haven't yet,' said Betty truthfully; 'but I soon might,' she
hastened to add.

'I'll say it again now,' said Godfrey after a moment, 'and afterwards
will you tell me about godpapa Godfrey and the acorn?'

'Yes, of course I will,' and then, as 'My duty to my neighbour' began
again, Angel turned away with a smile in her gentle eyes.

Certainly in these three weeks the two young aunts had managed to win
their little nephew's confidence. It had not come quite directly, for
poor Godfrey was not one of those lucky little children who grow up
with the happy belief that every one is friendly to them, and so open
their glad hearts to all the world. Bit by bit they had learned the
story of his short little life which there was no one but himself to
tell them. His mother was only a name to him, and he knew little about
his father, who was always kind, Godfrey said, but hardly ever saw him.
He didn't talk, the child told Angel; he took him on his knee sometimes
and looked at him, and Angel's gentle, pitiful heart drew its own
pictures, and fancied her brother mourning for his young wife,
estranged from his relations at home, perhaps afraid to cling too
closely to what was left him. Biddy O'Roone, the corporal's widow, was
evidently the chief person in Godfrey's world. Godfrey had been ill
once, he said; he couldn't remember much about it, but Biddy came and
sent away his black nurse, and after that she took care of him. She
taught him what she could, to speak the truth and say his prayers
morning and evening, and he was obedient to her, though the soldiers
and the native servants di