"No need. She likes things cold. You ought to see her face if she gets anything boiling in her mouth. It's no use to give her nothing hot. You'd think it was a snake. I give it up the third time she burnt her." "But I ought to go up and see her, I think; she hasn't seen me since I was such a little girl." "No need. You go ahead and enjoy your supper without bothering over her. She knows you're here, and she isn't one that's interested in things. She'll read an old shelf paper for hours, but carry her up a new paper and like as not when you get to the bed with it, you'll find her asleep. She sleeps a lot." Jane--thus urged--picked the chilled fish with a fork and considered. "I'll show you about the house after you've done eating," the aunt continued presently; "it's easy taken care of, for I keep it all shut up. Just Susan's room and mine and the kitchen is open. The neighbors won't bother you, for I give them to understand long ago as I wasn't one with time to waste. There isn't any one in the place that a woman with any sense would want to bother with, anyhow." "I don't fancy that I'll have time to be lonesome," smiled Jane, bravely swallowing some tea. "You'd have if it wasn't for the garden. I don't know whatever in the world makes Susan set such store by that garden. She will have it that it shall be kept up in memory of her husband, and you never saw such weeds. I've often sat down backwards when one come up--often." "I can't see it at all," with a glance out of the window. "You can't from here. And it's got to be watered, and she counts every pot full of water from her bed. She can hear me pumping. The birds dig up the seeds as fast as I can plant 'em, and I never saw no sense in slaving in the sun over what you can buy in the shade any day.--Are you done?" "Yes, I'm done." "Then come on." "Can I spread the tray?" "Tray! She doesn't have a tray. What should I fuss with a tray for, when I've got two hands?" Jane rose and stood by the table in silence, watching the cup filled from the standing teapot and the plate ornamented with a lonely bit of fish and a slice of bread. "Don't you butter the bread?" "She's in bed so much she mustn't have rich food," Matilda answered; "there, now it's ready. Come on." "Shan't I carry anything?" "I can take it, I guess. I've carried it alone for five years; I guess I can manage it to-night." Jane followed up the stairs in silence; Matilda marched ahead with a firm, heavy tread. "Shall I knock for you?" "I don't know what for. She yells anyway, whenever I come in, whether she's knocked or not. Just open the door." Jane opened the door gently, and they went in together. The room was half darkened, and only a little sharp nose showed over the top of the bedquilt. "Here's your supper," said the affectionate sister, "and here's Jane." A shrill cry was followed by two eyes tipping upward beyond the nose. "Oh, are you Jane?" There was a lot of pathos in the tone.