My Aunt Gainor kept away all this time, and made it clear that she did not wish my black hands at her table. My father, no doubt, felt sure that, so far as I was concerned, she would soon or late relent. This, in fact, came about in midwinter, upon her asking my mother to send me to see her. My father observed that he had no will to make quarrels, or to keep them alive. My mother smiled demurely, knowing him as none other did, and bade me go with her. In her own room she had laid out on the bed a brown coat of velveteen, with breeches to match, and stockings with brown clocks, and also a brown beaver, the back looped up, all of which she had, with sweet craftiness, provided, that I might appear well before my Aunt Gainor. “Thou wilt fight no one on the way, Hugh. And now, what shall be done with his hands, so rough and so hard? Scrub them well. Tell Gainor I have two new lilies for her, just come from Jamaica. Bulbs they are; I will care for them in the cellar. I was near to forget the marmalade of bitter orange. She must send; I cannot trust Tom. Thy father had him whipped at the jail yesterday, and he is sulky. Put on thy clothes, and I will come again to see how they fit thee.” In a little while she was back again, declaring I looked a lord, and that if she were a girl she should fall in love with me, and then--“But I shall never let any woman but me kiss thee. I shall be jealous. And now, sir, a bow. That was better. Now, as I curtsey, it is bad manners to have it over before I am fully risen. Then it is permitted that _les beaux yeux se rencontrent. Comme ca. Ca va bien_. That is better done.” “What vanities are these?” said my father at the door she had left open. She was nowise alarmed. “Come in, John,” she cried. “He does not yet bow as well as thou. It would crack some Quaker backs, I think. I can hear Friend Wain’s joints creak when he gets up.” “Nonsense, wife! Thou art a child to this day.” “Then kiss me, mon pere.” And she ran to him and stood on tiptoe, so engaging and so pretty that he could not help but lift up her slight figure, and, kissing her, set her down. It was a moment of rare tenderness. Would I had known or seen more like it! “Thou wilt ruin him, wife.” As I ran down the garden she called after me, “Do not thou forget to kiss her hand. To-morrow will come the warehouse; but take the sweets of life as they offer. Adieu.” She stood to watch me, all her dear heart in her eyes, something pure, and, as it were, virginal in her look. God rest her soul! It was late when I got to my aunt’s, somewhere about eight, and the hum of voices warned me of her having company. As I entered she rose, expecting an older guest, and, as I had been bid, I bowed low and touched her hand with my lips, as I said: “Dear Aunt Gainor, it has been so long!” I could have said nothing better. She laughed. “Here is my nephew, Mr. Etherington”--this to an English major; “and, Captain Wallace of the king’s navy, my nephew.”