Edna was close behind, so close indeed, that she saw the look in Uncle Phil’s face, and heard Aunt Jerry’s, “How do you do, Philip?” and in an instant the truth flashed upon her, taking her breath away and rendering her speechless for a moment. Then confronting them both, she exclaimed; “Oh, Uncle Phil,—Aunt Jerry,—I never knew,—I never guessed,—I never thought,—” “Well, don’t think now, or if you do, keep your thoughts to yourself,” was Aunt Jerry’s characteristic reply, as she walked into the sitting-room with Uncle Phil following after her, standing first on one foot, then upon the other, spitting a great deal, and flourishing his handkerchief almost in her face in his zeal to make her welcome. “Come upstairs,” Edna said; and glad to escape from the curious eyes of the fidgety little man, whom she had mentally pronounced “fat and pussy,—just as I knew he was,” Aunt Jerry accompanied her niece to her room, while Uncle Phil said softly to himself: “Yes, yes; better go before I bust the biler; good-lookin’ craft, though, you bet,” and he nodded at the figure-head of the tall clock in the corner as if that knew and appreciated his feelings. Alone with her aunt, Edna could not refrain from saying, “Aunt Jerry, it _was_ Uncle Phil; I saw it in his face; I know it all; I wish, I believe—” “You needn’t wish nor believe anything, for as true as you do, I’ll take my duds home in double-quick time. I ain’t quite such an old fool as that. Philip Overton and I have had our day, and lost it; let us alone;” Aunt Jerry answered so fiercely that Edna came to a sudden halt with her intentions of doing something for this odd, lonely couple, whose lives had once been so near to flowing in the same channel, but had drifted so far apart. They were wholly unlike each other, Edna thought, as she watched them closely during the evening, when with the first reserve worn off, they talked together of old friends whom in their youth they had known, and who were now many of them dead and gone. It was strange what a softening effect the talking of these old times had upon Aunt Jerry, who hardly seemed herself as she sat there with the fire-light falling on her smooth hair, and giving a rosy tinge to her cheek. Her eyes were always bright, and they shone now with much of their olden fire, and made Uncle Phil “squirm,” as he expressed it, whenever they rested on him. “If I only could bring them together. I mean to get Roy to help me,” Edna thought; and when next day Roy came, the story was eagerly told to him, and his assistance asked in the matter.