What was the strange magic of those two lines? They simply _were_ the New England spring, which Coleridge never saw. Ah! pussy willows! she must get some--she half checked the horse, but chirruped to him again with a little sigh. Nobody to take pussy willows to, now. How Mother loved them! They were just like that gray velvet gown of hers. Little Mother! Aunt Johanna wouldn't care for pussy willows; as for Sarepta----! But how good they both were; what really interesting persons! and so bracing to live with! Kitty chuckled, recalling the after breakfast hour this morning. She was making her customary call on Aunt Johanna, and that lady, erect amid her pillows, resplendent in sapphire blue and Mechlin (she had a different jacket for every morning; the bedridden, she maintained, must make variety for themselves!) was holding forth on the subject of classes. "Keep people _in their place_!" said the lady. "It is my invariable rule. If a salesman is uppish with me, he takes his uppishness elsewhere within twenty-four hours. Whenever any one forgets his place, put him back in it _without delay_. Delay makes for uncertainty, and uncertainty is fatal in business and everywhere else. An instance, my dear! The day before I left New York, I took a friend, a nice young girl, who didn't have many friends, to the Ritz Carlton for lunch. They have good coffee there; not like Sarepta's, but good. Well, after the ice-cream I ordered peaches; the waiter brought me two. _Two peaches!_ I looked at him. 'I ordered peaches!' I said. 'I did not specify the number.' He mumbled something, and I told him to speak up. 'Peaches is very expensive, Mum!' said the creature." Kitty burst into a ripple of laughter. "I wish I had been there, Aunt Johanna. What did you say?" "Say? I said, 'Trot along, Nancy! Do I look as if I couldn't pay for 'em?' He trotted." Kitty's laughter rippled again as she recalled her aunt's gesture. "Speaking of trotting, Pilot dear," she said, "we might as well--quiet, boy! quiet!" Pilot had shied, a thing almost unheard of. They were passing a tall dark hedge; something rustled in it, and startled the horse. As Kitty soothed him, a figure half emerged from a gap in the hedge; she was aware of a thin, dark, haggard face, of two burning eyes, which fixed her for an instant with a piercing gaze; then the figure slunk back again and the branches closed over it. "Surely not! surely not!" said the Reverend Timothy Chanter, in a tone of profound conviction. "You were speaking of the good horse, my dear; has anything annoyed him? I think I lost myself a moment." "He was startled, and I don't wonder; I was startled too. A man came out of the hedge: such a strange-looking man, Mr. Chanter." "Hedge? Man?" Mr. Chanter glanced around him and his face changed. "What kind of man, Kitty?"