Florence turned away from her in a pet. Mr. Aylwinne--the keen observer, the profound scholar, the man of business habits--declared not only eccentric, but something worse! It was a few minutes before she could answer her aunt’s remarks without betraying her annoyance. She went, however, with Mrs. Blunden to the rooms prepared for her, and assisted her maid in unpacking, putting the lady in such a good humor by her attentions that she descended to dinner prepared to like every one. Fred was not well enough to rise again that day, but Florence had found time ere she joined the party below to pay him a short visit, and promise him a longer one in the course of the evening. As she was leaving him he grasped her dress and drew her back. “Mrs. Wilson was saying something to Jane just now about an aunt of yours coming here to fetch you away, Donna. But you’ll not leave us, will you?” Florence stooped and kissed him without replying, for she had seen Mr. Aylwinne enter the room while the boy was speaking, and knew that he, too, was listening to hear what she would say. When he found that she was silent, he came forward, and Fred in great tribulation turned to his guardian. “Mr. Aylwinne, she is going away! What shall we do without her? There isn’t any one who has been so good to us since we lost mamma! Can’t you get her to stay? Oh, do, sir--do try! She’d listen to you if you asked her.” But he, too, was silent; and Florence, to end the awkward pause, said to the excited child soothingly: “Dear Fred, I am not going yet. Lie down and be quiet, or you will make your head worse. I may not leave you for some weeks to come.” “But I don’t want you to go at all!” sobbed the boy, and Mr. Aylwinne walked quietly away. With some trouble Florence reconciled her pupil to the necessity of their separation, and sat by him till he fell asleep. When she entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Wilson was absent. Her anxiety that the dinner should be perfection to the palates of her employer and his lady guest made her fidget in and out of the kitchen incessantly, until the cook was thrown into a state of desperation, and declared to her sympathizing assistants an intention of sitting down and leaving “missus” to finish the cooking herself.