“Thank you, my love, but I have sufficient to defray the expenses of my journey; and at the other end I shall be in a position to make arrangements.” “Let me lend you a little,” her niece said humbly. “No, my love”—and Mrs. Baines shook her head—“I cannot take it.” But Florence thought of the ten shillings that constituted all the old lady’s funds, and felt miserable. “You could pay me back,” she pleaded. “And don’t be angry, dear Aunt Anne, but you told me how poor you were in that lodging last year, and how cold; it makes my heart ache every time I think of it; and the winter and the cold are coming again. Oh, do stay here. You shall do anything in the world that makes you happy. I cannot bear to think of you in London; and it’s unkind of you to go, for we shall miss you so much, the children and I——” and she burst into tears. Then Aunt Anne melted. “Florence,” she said tenderly, “that was like your dear self.” “Then stay with us. You shall do as you like in all ways.” “Thank you, my love; and bless you for your goodness. But I cannot stay. I do love you, and I will believe that your heart feels for me in this great crisis of my life. You must not think that because I love him I shall love you less; that would be impossible. But you must allow me to terminate my visit now. I want to be alone, to be in retirement for a little while; besides I have, as I said just now, imperative business to transact in town. You must not ask me to prolong my time here, love.” “Let me, at any rate, be a little useful to you, Aunt Anne. I know you are not rich.” For a moment Aunt Anne was silent. Then she winked her left eye very slowly, and looked up. “Florence,” she said, “I know that you always mean your words, and I should not like to hurt your generous heart. I will prove my affection for you by letting you lend me two sovereigns. Don’t ask me to take more, my love, for it would be impossible. There——” and she gave a long sigh as she put the coins into her glove. “Now I hope you are satisfied. Remember I only take them to prove my affection for you. Let me kiss those dear children;” and quickly opening the door she called them by their names, and laughed in an absent, excited manner, as they came running down the stairs. “Come, my darlings,” she said; “Aunt Anne is going away, and wants to say good-bye.” “But we don’t want you to go,” said Monty. “We don’t want you to go at all,” echoed Catty.