er, and there sat Cornelia nibbling at an undamaged
sandwich with little, strong, white teeth, as cool and composed as if
such feats were of everyday occurrence.

"This is how I sit by Poppar at home; it's more sociable than right
across the room. Poppar and I are just the greatest chums, and I hate
it when he's away. There was a real nice woman wanted to come and keep
house, and take me around--Mrs Van Dusen, widow of Henry P Van Dusen,
who made a boom in cheese. Maybe you've heard of him. He made a pile,
and lost it all, trying to do it again. Then he got tired of himself
and took the _grippe_ and died, and it was pretty dull for Mrs Van.
She visits round, and puts in her time the best way she can. She'd have
liked quite well to settle down at our place for three or four months,
and I'd have liked it too, if it hadn't been for you. I wanted to see
you Aunt Soph--ia Ann!"

She put up a thin little hand, and rubbed it ingratiatingly up and down
the shiny silk lap, to the stupefaction of Mason, who came in at that
moment bearing a plate of hot scones, and retired to give a faithful
rendering of the position to her allies in the kitchen, sitting down on
the fender stool, and stroking the cook's apron in dramatic imitation,
while that good lady and her satellites went into helpless fits of
laughter.

"I'd as soon stroke a nettle myself," said the cook, "but there's no
accounting for taste! You take my word for it, if she goes on stroking
much longer, she'll get a sting as she won't forget in a hurry!"

Upstairs in the drawing-room, Miss Briskett's fidgeting uncomfortably
beneath that caressing hand. In her lonely, self-contained life, she
was so unused to demonstrations of the kind that she was at a loss how
to receive them when they came. Instinctively she drew herself away,
shrinking into the corners of her chair and busying herself with the re-
arrangement of the tray, while Cornelia asked one question after another
in her high-pitched, slightly monotonous voice.

"It's mighty quiet out here, Aunt Soph--ia Ann! Does it always go on
being just as still? Do you live all the year round, right here in this
house by your lonesome, listening to the grass growing across the lane?
What do you _do_, anyway? That's a real smart-looking maid! Will she
be the one to wait upon me? Most all my shirt waists fasten up the
back, and there's got to be someone round to fix them, or I'm all
undone. I guess you're prett