'You are a good little thing, Hilda,' Nelly said one day to me, as I was handing her back a pair of gloves I had been mending for her. 'I sometimes think we are very horrid to you. I wish you weren't so awfully religious; but I will say this for you, that you practise what you preach, and your religion seems to suit you. I am sure, though you haven't half the fun that I have, you always look as bright and jolly as you can be. How do you manage it?' 'I try to "dwell deep,"' I said; and Nelly laughingly rejoined as she left me,-- 'I am sure you are deeper than I am. I like to skim the surface as I go through life; one gets the cream that way.' It was a bright October morning. I had been picking some late roses on the lawn close to the house, and with my hands full of those and some lovely sprays of red and gold-coloured leaves was just entering the hall door, when a strange voice made me turn round. 'Is Mrs. Forsyth at home?' It was a lady who spoke, in clear, brisk tones; she was not very young, and wore a severely plain dress: a round felt hat like a man's, with two or three crow's feathers stuck in carelessly at the side, a thick pair of leather gauntlets, and carried a walking stick in her hand. I was answering in the affirmative, when suddenly down came her hand on my shoulder. 'Are you Hilda Thorn?' 'Yes,' I said, quietly meeting a searching look from two keen dark eyes under very thick eyebrows. 'And you are indeed, I hear, a veritable thorn in the side of my poor sister. I am glad to have met you. Now take me to her.' Her quick, imperative tones awed me. I had heard Nelly talk about an aunt of theirs, a Miss Rayner, who was a strong-minded and peculiar woman, and I rightly conjectured that this must be she. We found Mrs. Forsyth in her own sitting-room, busy with accounts, and I fancied she did not look well pleased at the advent of the visitor. 'Well, Helen,' she said, rising from her seat, 'you are home again, then. I thought you were still in America. This is quite a surprise.' 'I don't take long over business, and I am not one to let the grass grow under my feet. I have been making acquaintance with this young person. Why, Maria, she is a mere baby!' I beat a retreat hastily, and finding Nelly practising a song in the drawing-room, told her of the arrival. 'Aunt Helen! my goodness! won't mother be in a fuss! She pays us periodical visits to set us all straight. Isn't she a cure, Hilda? I'm always expecting to see her walk in rigged out in a sporting costume--knickerbockers and all. She wears a greatcoat in winter exactly like a man's.' 'She has a handsome face,' I said, 'and I like her short grey hair; it seems to suit her. She must be quite six foot, Nelly, isn't she?' 'Yes, half an inch over, I think. What did she say to you?' 'She told your mother I was a mere baby.'