g way from the Coral Islands to Susan.
But she stood expecting an answer, and he said at last with an impatient
glance at the doll:

"Call her! Oh, call her what you like!"

Susan saw his mistake at once.

"Oh, I don't mean the doll!" she said in a great hurry. "I mean Aunt--
Aunt--Emptycap."

Freddie's attention was caught at last. He put the book down on his
knees.

"Aunt _who_?" he said with real interest in his voice.

Susan knew he was going to laugh at her, and this she never liked.

"You know who I mean," she said, "it's not _quite_ the name, but it
sounds like that. I want to know if I ought to call her `Aunt.'"

Freddie's eyes twinkled, though his face was quite grave:

"I should just take care of one thing if I were you," he said; "and that
is, not to say her name wrong."

"Why?" asked Susan.

"Because nothing makes old ladies so angry as that. Why, if you were to
walk in and say, `How do you do, Aunt Emptycap?' it might make her cross
all the time you stay."

"Might it really?" said Susan. She felt a little doubtful whether
Freddie was to be trusted, and yet he spoke as if he knew. It was
something, however, to have made him talk about it at all.

"She's got another name, I suppose," she continued; "something easier to
say. I shall call her that, and then she couldn't be angry."

"Oh, yes, she could," said Freddie quickly; "she would think that rude,
because she's Mother's aunt, you know, our _great_ aunt."

"Do you suppose she's very old?" asked Susan, putting the next question
that had filled her mind.

"Very," said Freddie; "and as for crossness!" He lifted up his eyes and
hands without finishing the sentence.

Susan felt discouraged, though she had a feeling that Freddie was
"making up." Still, what he said was so like what she thought of the
matter herself that it had a great effect upon her.

"If you like," continued Freddie graciously, "I'll tell you just what I
think she'll be like."

Susan nodded, though she inwardly dreaded the description.

"You know," began Freddie, opening his large eyes very wide, "that
picture of old Mother Holle in Grimm?"

Susan knew it very well, for it always made her uncomfortable to look at
it, and she thought of it sometimes at night.

"Aunt Enticknapp is something like that," he went on, speaking with
relish in a low tone, "only uglier. With a hookier nose, and bigger
eyebrows, and a hump on her back. She talks in a croaky sort of