h puzzled her two aunts.

As Mary grew older, this quality became clearer.

"I know what it is," said Miss Cordelia one night. "She has a mind of her
own. Everything she sees or hears: she tries to reason it out."

I can't tell you why, but Miss Patty looked uneasy.

"Only this morning," continued Miss Cordelia, "I heard Ma'm Maynard
telling her that there wasn't a prettier syringa bush anywhere than the
one under her bedroom window. Mary turned to her with those eyes of
hers--you know the way she does--'Ma'm Maynard,' she said, 'have you seen
all the other s'inga bushes in the world?' And only yesterday I said to
her, 'Mary, you shouldn't try to whistle. It isn't nice.' She gave me
that look--you know--and said, 'Then let us learn to whistle, Aunt
T'delia, and help to make it nice.'"

"Imagine you and I saying things like that when we were girls," said Miss
Patty, still looking troubled.

"Yes, yes, I know. And yet... I sometimes think that if you and I had
been brought up a little differently...."

They were both quiet then for a time, each consulting her memories of
hopes long past.

"Just the same," said Miss Patty at last, "there are worse things in the
world than being old-fashioned."

In which I think you would have agreed with her, if you could have seen
Mary that same evening.

At the time of which I am now writing she was six years old--a rather
quiet, solemn child--though she had a smile upon occasions, which was
well worth going to see.

For some time back she had heard her aunts speaking of "Poor Josiah!" She
had always stood in awe of her father who seemed taller and gaunter than
ever. Mary seldom saw him, but she knew that every night after dinner he
went to his den and often stayed there (she had heard her aunts say)
until long after midnight.

"If he only had some cheerful company," she once heard Aunt Cordelia
remark.

"But that's the very thing he seems to shun since poor Martha died,"
sighed Miss Patty, and dropping her voice, never dreaming for a moment
that Mary was listening, she added with another sigh, "If there had only
been a boy, too!"

All these things Mary turned over in her mind, as few but children can,
especially when they have dreamy eyes and often go a long time without
saying anything. And on the same night when Aunt Patty had come to
the conclusion that there are worse things in the world than being
old-fashioned, Mary waited until she knew that dinner was over and