They watched her graceful movements, those two angular old ladies, and marvelled over her roundness and suppleness. They saw with appalled hearts what a power youth and beauty might have over a man. Perhaps she might be even worse than they had feared, though if you could have heard them talk about their nephew’s coming bride to their neighbors for months beforehand, you would have supposed they knew her to be a model in every required direction. But their stately pride required that of them, an outward loyalty at least. Now that loyalty was to be tried, and Marcia had two old, narrow and well-fortified hearts to conquer ere her way would be entirely smooth. Well might Madam Schuyler have been proud of her pupil as alone and unaided she faced the trying situation and mastered it in a sweet and unassuming way. They began their inquisition at once, so soon as they were seated, and the preliminary sentences uttered. The gleaming knitting needles seemed to Marcia like so many swarming, vindictive bees, menacing her peace of mind. “You look young, child, to have the care of so large a house as this,” said Aunt Amelia, looking at Marcia over her spectacles as if she were expected to take the first bite out of her. “It’s a great responsibility!” she shut her thin lips tightly and shook her head, as if she had said: “It’s a great _impossibility_.” “Have you ever had the care of a house?” asked Miss Hortense, going in a little deeper. “David likes everything nice, you know, he has always been used to it.” There was something in the tone, and in the set of the bow on Aunt Hortense’s purple-trimmed cap that roused the spirit in Marcia. “I think I rather enjoy housework,” she responded coolly. This unexpected statement somewhat mollified the aunts. They had heard to the contrary from some one who had lived in the same town with the Schuylers. Kate’s reputation was widely known, as that of a spoiled beauty, who did not care to work, and would do whatever she pleased. The aunts had entertained many forebodings from the few stray hints an old neighbor of Kate’s had dared to utter in their hearing. The talk drifted at once into household matters, as though that were the first division of the examination the young bride was expected to undergo. Marcia took early opportunity to still further mollify her visitors by her warmest praise of the good things with which the pantry and store-closet had been filled. The expression that came upon the two old faces was that of receiving but what is due. If the praise had not been forthcoming they would have marked it down against her, but it counted for very little with them, warm as it was. “Can you make good bread?” The question was flung out by Aunt Hortense like a challenge, and the very set of her nostrils gave Marcia warning. But it was in a relieved voice that ended almost in a ripple of laugh that she answered quite assuredly: “Oh, yes, indeed. I can make beautiful bread. I just love to make it, too!”