ng it
to be the right of her sex to dress as became its charms. Her silks and
laces went but ill with the low estate my uncle claimed for his purse,
and Master Philip's wardrobe was twice the size of mine. And the family
travelled in a coach as grand as Mr. Carvel's own, with panels wreathed
in flowers and a footman and outrider in livery, from which my aunt
descended like a duchess. She embraced my grandfather with much warmth,
and kissed me effusively on both cheeks.

"And this is dear Richard?" she cried. "Philip, come at once and greet
your cousin. He has not the look of the Carvels," she continued volubly,
"but more resembles his mother, as I recall her."

"Indeed, madam," my grandfather answered somewhat testily, "he has
the Carvel nose and mouth, though his chin is more pronounced. He has
Elizabeth's eyes."

But my aunt was a woman who flew from one subject to another, and she
had already ceased to think of me. She was in the hall. "The dear old
home?" she cries, though she had been in it but once before, regarding
lovingly each object as her eye rested upon it, nay, caressingly when
she came to the great punch-bowl and the carved mahogany dresser, and
the Peter Lely over the broad fireplace. "What memories they must bring
to your mind, my dear," she remarks to her husband. "'Tis cruel, as I
once said to dear papa, that we cannot always live under the old rafters
we loved so well as children." And the good lady brushes away a tear
with her embroidered pocket-napkin. Tears that will come in spite of
us all. But she brightens instantly and smiles at the line of servants
drawn up to welcome them. "This is Scipio, my son, who was with your
grandfather when your father was born, and before." Master Philip nods
graciously in response to Scipio's delighted bow. "And Harvey," my
aunt rattles on. "Have you any new mares to surprise us with this year,
Harvey?" Harvey not being as overcome with Mrs. Grafton's condescension
as was proper, she turns again to Mr. Carvel.

"Ah, father, I see you are in sore need of a woman's hand about the old
house. What a difference a touch makes, to be sure." And she takes off
her gloves and attacks the morning room, setting an ornament here and
another there, and drawing back for the effect. "Such a bachelor's hall
as you are keeping!"

"We still have Willis, Caroline," remonstrates my grandfather, gravely.
"I have no fault to find with her housekeeping."

"Of course not, father; men