“I cannot do that, even for Alfred,” she said. “I have always held my head so high; I cannot lower it to Mrs. North, even for him.” But she took the letter from her pocket and read it over again. “She does not seem to comprehend the difference in our positions,” she said, as she put it back into the envelope, though not before she had noticed, with a keen eye, that Mrs. North had said she would be back in England very soon, and calculated that that could not mean just yet. “If Walter and Florence were in London, I should be relieved of this anxiety immediately,” she thought. Then a good idea occurred to her. She considered it from every point of view, and felt at last that it was feasible. “I am quite sure,” she told herself, “that Florence would say I was justified in going to her mother in her absence. I will explain to her that there are some things her daughter would wish me to buy, and ask her to let me have sufficient money to defray their cost. Besides,” she added, as an afterthought, “I must see those dear children; Florence, I know, would wish me to do so; and it is an attention I ought not to omit, after all the regard and kindness that she and dear Walter have always shown me.” She got up and looked longingly at the buns and tarts in the window; though she had only one unbroken shilling left, she could not wholly curb her generosity. “Would you put me a couple of sponge-cakes into a bag?” she said to the young woman, “I hope they are quite fresh; I prefer them a little brown.” She walked away, justified and refreshed, holding the paper bag by the corner. But when she arrived at the house near Regent’s Park, it was only to be told that Florence’s mother had gone out for the day, and that the children had not yet returned from their morning walk. The servant, seeing how disappointed she looked, begged her to come in and wait for a little while. “I don’t think they’ll be long, ma’am,” she said almost gently. “For,” as she explained to her fellow-servants afterwards, “I could not help being sorry for an old lady who had made a stupid of herself like that.” Aunt Anne hesitated a moment. “There’s a nice fire in the dining-room,” the servant continued, and having persuaded her to enter, she turned the easy-chair round, and asked if she should make a cup of tea.