"I don't think so," May said with confused well-meaning. Grandpapa Farley was calling from the garden. May was glad to run away to him. * * * * * It was a long way home--almost to the other end of town. May felt the distance interminable. When she reached the house she rushed upstairs to Aunt Julia's room. Aunt Julia was sitting there doing nothing at all. She glanced up with a tired, distracted air as May came in. May smiled ecstatically, rushed over to Aunt Julia, threw her arms about her, and in a moment was weeping with her head in Aunt Julia's lap. Julia's fingers moved through May's soft hair that was so thick and beautiful. She pitied herself that May was so young. May's youth seemed loathsome and repugnant to her. Because of her loathing, she made her voice more gentle. "What's the matter, sweet? Did something unpleasant happen at your grandmother's house?" "N-no, nothing. Only I wanted to get away from there. I'm so glad to be here!" Aunt Julia's fingers moved stiffly through May's hair. Why should I dislike this child! Oh, I'm dying of loneliness! Julia felt that she could love no one and that she deserved endless commiseration for her lovelessness. "Don't cry, darling!" Aunt Julia's voice was harsh. "I should never have let you go there. I know how depressing it is. Your Aunt Alice is such a pathetic person, isn't she? I know. I know. She isn't precisely mad, but so dreadfully unhappy. Such a morbid, isolated life." "She makes me so--so--I don't know! Was she always like that? I used to be afraid of her when I was small." "Perhaps so. I don't know, dear. Some man she was in love with, they say. We won't think about her. When I first married your father I tried to get her interested in some of the things I was doing at the time, but she imagines that every one dislikes her. Now don't cry any more, May, child. You mustn't let your poor father see how your visit has upset you. He never wants us to go there, but I think we ought. Old Mr. Farley is such a kind old man and your grandmother was so good to the little baby that died. Your father has often told me about it. He is grateful to her for it, I'm sure, though she never understood him and when he was there with you children he was very miserable. That's one reason I wanted him to move so far away. I hate for him to have that atmosphere about him. It makes him think of your poor little mother, too. You know she was only a girl when she died. Not much more of a woman than you are, May. I don't think she understood your father very well either, but he loved her very much. It was such a pity she died. Seemed so useless." Julia was pained by her own kind words. The malice in her heart hurt her. She felt that if people were compassionate they could find the apology for her emotion which she was not able to discover.