“You’d best put on the kettle, Florence,” said Mrs. Sibley, turning to the eldest child. “I haven’t had time to ’tend to it. Oh, be that you, Mr. Foyle? Would you kindly hand me down that there clock? I’m afeard the childern mid break it. Henery, just roll up that door-mat an’ fetch it here.” “Dear heart alive, what be about, Mrs. Sibley?” ejaculated honest Foyle. “You haven’t had no bad noos, I hope?” “Oh, no noos at all, Mr. Foyle. Nothin’ noo do never come a-nigh this ’ere place. I be goin’ to have a bit of a change--I did tell ’ee this marnin’ as I wanted a change, didn’t I? I be a-goin’ to shift, Mr. Foyle.” “To shift!” ejaculated the sexton. He slowly unwound the lengths of black and white comforter which were swathed about his neck, gaping at her the while. “You’d best make tea, hadn’t you?” remarked Mrs. Sibley, ostentatiously counting over the plated spoons which were her property. “Florence ’ud very likely scald herself.” The sexton dropped heavily into the nearest chair. “Ye bain’t goin’ away to-night!” he gasped. Mrs. Sibley straightened herself and eyed him reflectively. It might be a little awkward to say she _was_ leaving that night, for if by chance he _did_ take her at her word, she had not the remotest notion of where she could go. “Not to-night,” she said at length, with the air of one making a concession. “I reckon to-morrow ’ull be time enough.” Florence laid down the teapot and approached, her eyes round with consternation. “Ye’re never goin’ to leave us on Christmas Day!” she ejaculated. “Oh, Auntie!” “Auntie” was the title unanimously bestowed on Mrs. Sibley by the young Foyles, and accepted by that lady pending its exchange for a more intimate one. In a moment Florence burst into tears, and the other children immediately followed suit, little Rosanna being indeed so overcome by her feelings that she was constrained to lie on the floor and scream. Mrs. Sibley stooped over her and set her on her feet. Beneath her stiff and somewhat chilly demeanour she had a warm enough heart, and was sincerely attached to her charges, particularly the youngest, whom she had brought up from infancy. “Ye’ll have to get another Auntie, my dear,” she remarked, winking away a tear. “And ’tis to be hoped as she’ll take as good care of you as I’ve a-done.” The sexton breathed hard, but did not venture to protest, and Henery, after rubbing his eyes on his jacket sleeve, inquired in a reproachful tone why Auntie was going away.