"Yes, Milly, and you are a great help and comfort to your mother." "If--if I could only learn her patience; but the children are dreadfully trying--with their untidy ways, their mischief and noise. They nearly distract me at times and before I know it I've given somebody a shake or a slap, or if not that, a very uncomplimentary piece of my mind," she added half laughing, half sighing. Then with a hasty good-bye she tripped away, her aunt calling after her, "Tell your mother I'll be in after a while." Miss Stanhope sat where the girl had left her, the usually busy hands folded in her lap her gaze fixed meditatively on the carpet. Presently she lifted her head with a deep drawn sigh, her eye passed slowly about the room resting lovingly now upon this familiar object, now upon that. "I don't think they would sell for much," she said, musingly: "the carpet has been in wear for thirty odd years and the colors have faded a good deal: the chairs and tables are older still and so are the pictures on the walls, that sampler my grandmother worked when she was a young girl--which was many years ago; and these chair-cushions too"--rising and going from one to another, giving to each in turn a little loving shake and pat--"she embroidered and filled with her own feathers; and so I value them more than their weight in gold. Marcia, I think, values them also, but--to a stranger, I suppose they would all seem old, dingy and worthless, though to me they are real treasures. I've a sincere affection for them. "But what is that to my love for Marcia and her children! what indeed!" She hastily picked up duster and brush, gave a finishing touch here and there, drew down the blinds and left the room. A few moments later she might have been seen in bonnet and shawl and armed with a large cotton umbrella, issuing from her front gate and walking briskly toward the business part of the town. It was nearly two hours before she returned, with a step a trifle less brisk, and arms filled with brown paper parcels. She passed her own gate and stopped at Mr. Keith's. Mildred ran to open it. "Why, auntie, how you are loaded! Give me your bundles." "Yes, child, carry them in to your mother. I've been to every store in town; such beautiful remnants! couldn't help buying! make up pretty for the children; afraid there's none big enough for you, dear. Am all out of breath with walking." "Yes; it's too bad; don't say anything more till you've rested," said the girl, leading the way into the pleasant family room, hastily laying the packages on the table, and drawing forward a large cushioned rocking chair. "There, sit down, auntie, and let me take your things." "Aunt Wealthy! come at last! we've been wondering what kept you," said a handsome, matronly, but still youthful looking lady, with a babe in her arms, coming in at that moment. "And you've been out shopping? I hope you were not caught in any of the showers?"