Nevertheless, Kat looked forlorn all the rest of the day, and had spells of solemnly surveying Kittie, as though some wonderful change had taken place, and a pair of wings, or some equally astonishing thing might be the result. Next morning was as beautiful as a spring morning ever could be, and Kat took much comfort in the fact, that, in her haste to get out to the pond, Kittie flew about the sitting-room in a hurry, whisked the dirt under the stove, didn't stop to dust, except a rapid skim over the top, left the piano shut, neglected to put fresh flowers under father's portrait, and shut the blinds so as to hide all defects under a comfortable shielding gloom. Kat looked on and felt relieved. Kittie wasn't going to be so dreadfully good and proper after all, and much consoled, Kat put on her hat, and dashed out to the pond, where Kittie was already sailing about, with her head still ornamented in a dust-cap. Bea had watched their early departure from the field of work, with some misgiving, and decided to go and take a view of the house as soon as she got the dishes put away, but just at that moment, the door bell rang; and dear me, what should she do? The twins were at the farthest end of the pond, yelling like bedlamites, Bea declared. Ernestine had finished her small share of work, then put on her cocked-up hat with a blue bow, and gone down town; so there was no one left to see to the door, and smoothing down her hair, Bea hurried through the hall with flushed cheeks and some anxiety. True to a prophetic feeling which possessed her, the opening of the door disclosed to view the last person to be desired, on that or any other morning: Miss Strong, a regular Dickensonian old maid. "Good morning, sweet child!" she exclaimed, the moment Bea's dismayed face presented itself. "Good morning, Miss Strong; will you come in?" "Come in? Surely, dear. I want to see you all; and then I hear that you and your sisters are such model little housekeepers, and I think it is so lovely that you all, in your heart-rending afflictions, should bow so meekly beneath God's chastening rod, and put your shoulders to the wheel." Bea opened the sitting-room door in fear and trembling, and blinded by the spring sunshine, Miss Strong walked into the dark room, in her girlish, hasty way, and immediately stumbled over a footstool, and landed at full length on the lounge, with such force that she dropped her beaded reticule, and knocked her bonnet off. "Oh, I am so sorry," cried Bea, running to pick up the things, and return them to the startled and scarlet-faced spinster. "I don't know why Kittie shut the blinds, she oughtn't to."