"No, my dear, you are not particularly glad to see me," she said, in answer to Helen's gentle dignified greeting. "I don't expect it, child, nor look for it; and you need not waste untruths upon me, for I always see through them. You are not glad to see me, and I am not surprised, for I assure you I intend to make myself disagreeable. Helen, your father is a perfect fool. Now, my dear, you need not fire up; you would say so if you were as old as me, and had received as idiotic an epistle from him." "But I am not as old as you, and he is my father," said Helen, steadily. "I don't tell untruths, Aunt Maria, and I am glad to see you because--because you were fond of mother. Will you come into the dining-room now, and let me get you some tea?" Helen's lips were quivering, and her dark blue eyes were slightly lowered, so that Aunt Maria should not notice the tears that filled them. The old lady, however, had noticed these signs of emotion, and brave words always pleased her. "You aren't a patch on your mother, child," she said. "But you remind me of her. Yes, take me to my room first, and then get me a good substantial meal, for I can tell you I am starving." Helen rang the bell. "Alice," she said to the parlor maid, who speedily answered the summons, "will you get the rose room ready as quickly as possible? My aunt, Mrs. Cameron, will stay here for the night. And please lay supper in the dining-room. Tell Mrs. Power--oh, I forgot--see and get as nice a supper as you can, Alice. You had better speak to Miss Polly." "Yes, Miss," said Alice. Then she paused, hesitated, colored slightly, and said, in a dubious manner, "Is it the rose room you mean, Miss Helen? That's the room Miss Polly is getting ready for Miss Virginy, and there ain't no curtains to the window nor to the bed at present." "Then I won't sleep in that bed," said Mrs. Cameron. "I must have a four-poster with curtains all round, and plenty of dark drapery to the windows. My eyes are weak, and I don't intend to have them injured with the cold morning light off the moor." "Oh, Aunt Maria, the mornings aren't very light now," answered Helen. "They are----" But Mrs. Cameron interrupted her. "Don't talk nonsense, child. In a decent place like Bath I own the day may break gradually, but I expect everything contrary to civilized existence here. The very thought of those awful commons makes me shiver. Now, have you, or have you not, a four-poster, in which I can sleep?" Helen smothered a slight sigh. She turned once again to Alice. "Will you get my father's room ready for Mrs. Cameron," she said, "and then see about supper as quickly as possible? Father is away for a few days," she added, turning to the good lady. "Please will you come up to Polly's and my room now to take off your things?"