"I'll go straight and ask about auntie's breakfast first," she thought, mounting the staircase. To her light tap at the door, a feeble "come in" responded. She entered then and observed, with a slight start, that the invalid had just been up. The blind was drawn, and a pair of kicked-off slippers betrayed a hasty jump back into bed. Her eyes sought Susan's in explanation. "I didn't know that you could move about," she said, with a pleased look. Susan's little, sharp nose had an apologetic appearance, as it showed over the sheet-fold. "I can get about a little, days when I'm strong," she explained, "and I wanted to see her off. I wanted to see if she really did go." She paused, gave a sharp choke and gasp, and then waited. Jane leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I will try very hard to make you comfortable and happy," she said gently. Susan rather shrunk together in the bed. "What kind of a girl are you, anyhow?" she asked suddenly and sharply. "Are you really religious, or do you only just go to church?" "I try to do what's right," her niece answered simply. The invalid contemplated her intently. "It can be pretty hard living with any one that tries to do right," she said. "My experience is that good people is often more trying than bad ones. Maybe it's just that I've had more to do with them, though. I suppose Matilda told you about everything and the garden and all?" "Yes, I think I know what to see to." "And the cat?--and his stealing?" "Yes, she told me about him." "The garden must be weeded," Susan pronounced, sinking down deep into the bed. "Don't you ever forget that. And that cat has got to be fed--and well fed, too--even if he does steal." Jane watched her disappear beneath the bedclothes. "Auntie," she said, "I've got lots of funny ideas, and one of them is that it's wicked not to be just as happy as possible every minute. Now I'm to be here three weeks, and I think that I ought to be able to make them a real change for you as well as for Aunt Matilda. We'll begin with your breakfast. You tell me what you like best, and I'll fix it for you--" Susan's head came up out of the bed-clothes with the suddenness of a boy rising from a dive. "If I can have anything I want," she cried, "I want some hot tea--some boiling hot tea, some tea made with water that's boiling as hard as it can boil. And I want the pot hot. Burning hot before the tea goes in." Jane started. "I thought you liked your tea cold." Susan's eyes fairly snapped. "Well, I don't. I don't like nothing cold. I like everything hot." Jane moved towards the door. "I'll go and make some right away," she said. Susan's small, bright eyes looked after her very hard indeed. "I wonder if you really mean what you say about my doing what I please." "Of course I mean what I say." "Then I want to go back into my own room." The niece stopped. "Isn't this your room?" she asked in surprise.