"Yes, Anthony, a very pleasant call, thank ye. Help me out; _the other side_, old step-and-fetch-it! I believe you were a hundred years old when I was born. Yes, that's all. Direxia Hawkes, give him a cup of coffee; he's got chilled waiting in the cold. No, I'm warm enough; I had something to warm me." In spite of this last declaration, when little Mrs. Bliss came in half an hour later to see the old lady, she found her with her feet on the fender, sipping hot mulled wine, and declaring that the marrow was frozen in her bones. "I have been sitting in a tomb," she said, in answer to the visitor's alarmed inquiries, "talking to a corpse. Did you ever see Virginia Dane?" Mrs. Bliss opened her blue eyes wide. "Oh, no, Mrs. Tree. I didn't know that any one ever saw Miss Dane. I thought she was--" "She is dead," said Mrs. Tree. "I have been talking with her corpse, I tell you, and I don't like corpses. You are alive and warm, and I like you. Tell me some scandal." "Oh, Mrs. Tree!" "Well, tell me about the baby, then. I suppose there's no harm in my asking that. If I live much longer, I sha'n't be allowed to talk about anything except gruel and nightcaps. How's the baby?" "Oh, he is _so_ well, Mrs. Tree, and such a darling! He looks like a perfect beauty in that lovely cloak. I must bring him round in it to show to you. It is the handsomest thing I ever saw, and it didn't look a bit yellow after it was pressed." "I got it in Canton," said Mrs. Tree. "My baby--I never had but one--was born in the China seas. Here's her coral." She motioned toward her lap, and Mrs. Bliss saw that a small chest of carved sandalwood lay open on her knees, full of trinkets and odds and ends. "It is very pretty," said little Mrs. Bliss, lifting the coral and bells reverently. "Her name was Lucy," said Mrs. Tree. "She married Arthur Blyth, cousin to the girls, and died when little Arthur was born. You may have that for your baby; I'm keeping Arthur's for little Vesta's child. If you thank me, you sha'n't have it." CHAPTER XIV. TOMMY CANDY, AND THE LETTER HE BROUGHT "How do you do, Thomas Candy?" said Mrs. Tree. "How-do-you-do-Missis-Tree-I'm-pretty-well-thank-you-and-hope-you-are- the-same!" replied Tommy Candy, in one breath. "Humph! you shake hands better than you did; but remember to press with the palm, not pinch with the fingers! Now, what do you want?" "I brung you a letter," said Tommy Candy. "I was goin' by the post-office, and Mr. Jaquith hollered to me and said bring it to you, and so I brung it." "I thank you, Thomas," said the old lady, taking the letter and laying it down without looking at it. "Sit down! There are burnt almonds in the ivory box. Humph! I hear very bad accounts of you, Tommy Candy." Tommy looked up from an ardent consideration of the relative size of the burnt almonds; his face was that of a freckled cherub who knew not sin.