Florence's Aunt Julia was reading an exquisitely made little book, which bore her initials stamped in gold upon the cover; and it had evidently reached her by a recent delivery of the mail, for wrappings bearing cancelled stamps lay upon the floor beside the _chaise longue_. It was a special sort of book, since its interior was not printed, but all laboriously written with pen and ink--poems, in truth, containing more references to a lady named Julia than have appeared in any other poems since Herrick's. So warmly interested in the reading as to be rather pink, though not always with entire approval, this Julia nevertheless, at the sound of footsteps, closed the book and placed it beneath one of the cushions assisting the _chaise longue_ to make her position a comfortable one. Her greeting was not enthusiastic. "What do you want, Florence?" "I was going to ask you if Herbert and me--I mean: Was it Noble Dill gave you Fifi and Mimi, Aunt Julia?" "Noble Dill? No." "I wish it was," Florence said. "I'd like these cats better if they were from Noble Dill." "Why?" Julia inquired. "Why are you so partial to Mr. Noble Dill?" "I think he's _so_ much the most inter'sting looking of all that come to see you. Are you _sure_ it wasn't Noble Dill gave you these cats, Aunt Julia?" A look of weariness became plainly visible upon Miss Julia Atwater's charming face. "I do wish you'd hurry and grow up, Florence," she said. "I do, too! What for, Aunt Julia?" "So there'd be somebody else in the family of an eligible age. I really think it's an outrageous position to be in," Julia continued, with languid vehemence--"to be the only girl between thirteen and forty-one in a large connection of near relatives, including children, who all seem to think they haven't anything to think of but Who comes to see her, and Who came to see her yesterday, and Who was here the day before, and Who's coming to-morrow, and Who's she going to marry! You really ought to grow up and help me out, because I'm getting tired of it. No. It wasn't Noble Dill but Mr. Newland Sanders that sent me Fifi and Mimi--and I want you to keep away from 'em." "Why?" asked Florence. "Because they're very rare cats, and you aren't ordinarily a very careful sort of person, Florence, if you don't mind my saying so. Besides, if I let you go near them, the next thing Herbert would be over here mussing around, and he can't go near _anything_ without ruining it! It's just in him; he can't help it." Florence looked thoughtful for a brief moment; then she asked: "Did Newland Sanders send 'em with the names already to them?" "No," said Julia, emphasizing the patience of her tone somewhat. "I named them after they got here. Mr. Sanders hasn't seen them yet. He had them shipped to me. He's coming this evening. Anything more to-day, Florence?" "Well, I was thinking," said Florence. "What do you think grandpa'll think about these cats?"