Next morning, at a comparatively early hour, Helen stood ringing the bell of Mrs. Banker’s house. She had said to Katy that she was going out, and could not tell just when she might return, and as Katy never questioned her acts, while Wilford was too intent upon his own miserable thoughts as to “where Aunt Betsy could be, or what had befallen her,” to heed any one else, no inquiries were made, and no obstacles put in the way of her going direct to Mrs. Banker’s, where Mark met her himself, holding her cold hand until he led her to the fire and placed her in a chair. He knew she would rather meet her aunt alone, and so when he heard her step in the hall he left the room, holding the door for Aunt Betsy, who wept like a little child at the sight of Helen, accusing herself of being a fool, who ought to be shut up in an insane asylum, but persisting in saying she was going home that very day without seeing Katy at all. “If she was here I’d like it, but I shan’t go there, for I know Wilford don’t want me.” Then she told Helen all she did not already know of her trip to New York, her visit to the opera, her staying with the Tubbses and her meeting with Mark, the best young chap she ever saw, not even excepting Morris. “If he was my own son he couldn’t be kinder,” she added, “and I mistrust he hopes to be my nephew. You can’t do better; and, if he offers, take him.” Helen’s cheeks were crimson as she waived this part of the conversation, and wished aloud that she had come around in the carriage, as she could thus have taken Aunt Betsy over the city before the train would leave. “Mark spoke of that when he heard I was going to-day,” Aunt Betsy said; “I’ll warrant you he’ll attend to it.” Aunt Betsy was right, for when Mark and his mother joined their guests, and learned that Aunt Betsy’s intention was unchanged, he suggested the ride, and offered the use of their carriage. Helen did not decline the offer, and ere a half hour had passed, Aunt Betsy, with her satchel, umbrella, and cap-box, was comfortably adjusted in Mrs. Banker’s carriage with Helen beside her, while Mark bade his coachman drive wherever Miss Lennox wished to go, taking care to reach the train in time. They were tearful thanks which Aunt Betsy gave to her kind friends as she was driven away to the Bowery to say good-bye, lest the Tubbses should “think her suddenly stuck up.” “Would you mind taking ’Tilda in? It would please her mightily,” Aunt Betsy whispered, as they were alighting in front of Mr. Peter Tubbs’s; and as the result of this suggestion, the carriage, when again it emerged into Broadway, held Mattie Tubbs, prouder than she had been in all her life before, while the gratified mother at home felt amply repaid for all the trouble her visitor had made her.