“Oh, yes, Ma’am,” said Tess, politely. “It is the old Corner House—_our_ house.” “_Your_ house?” said the tall lady, sharply. “What do you mean by that?” “We live there,” said Tess, bravely. “We are two of the Kenway girls. Then there are Ruth and Agnes. And Aunt Sarah. We all live there.” “You reside in Mr. Peter Stower’s house?” said the lady, with emphasis, and looking not at all pleasant, Tess thought. “How long have you resided there?” “Ever since we came to Milton. We were Uncle Peter’s only relations, so Mr. Howbridge came for us and put us in the house,” explained Tess, gravely. “Mr. Stower’s only relatives?” repeated the lady, haughtily. “We will see about _that_. You may lead on to the house. At least, I am sure we have as much right there as a parcel of girls.” Tess and Dot were troubled, but they led the way. Agnes and Ruth were on the big front porch sewing and they saw the procession enter the gate. “Goodness me! who’s this coming?” asked Agnes, eyeing the dark lady with startled curiosity. “Looks as though she owned the place.” “Oh, Agnes!” gasped Ruth, and sprang to her feet. She met the lady at the steps. “Who are you?” asked the stranger, sourly. “I am Ruth Kenway. Did you—you wish to see me, Ma’am?” “I don’t care whom I see,” the lady answered decisively, marching right up the steps and leading the angel-faced little girl by the hand. “I want you to know that I am Mrs. Treble. Mrs. John Augustus Treble. My daughter Lillie (stand straight, child!) and I, have been living in Michigan. John Augustus has been dead five years. He was blown up in a powder-mill explosion, so I can prove his death very easily. So, when I heard that my husband’s uncle, Mr. Peter Stower, was dead here in Milton, I decided to come on and get Lillie’s share of the property.” “Oh!” murmured Ruth and Agnes, in chorus. “I am not sure that, as John Augustus Treble’s widow, my claims to the estate do not come clearly ahead of _yours_. I understand that you Kenway girls are merely here on sufferance, and that the ties of relationship between you and Mr. Peter Stower are very scant indeed. Of course, I suppose the courts will have to decide the matter, but meanwhile you may show me to my room. I don’t care to pay a hotel bill, and it looks to me as though there were plenty of rooms, and to spare, in this ugly old house.” Ruth was left breathless. But Agnes was able to whisper in her sister’s ear: “‘Mrs. Treble’ indeed! She looks to me, Ruth, a whole lot like ‘Mrs. Trouble.’ What _shall_ we do?” CHAPTER XVIII RUTH DOES WHAT SHE THINKS IS RIGHT Mrs. Treble, as the tall, dark lady called herself, had such an air of assurance and command, that Ruth was at a loss what course to take with her. Finally the oldest Kenway girl found voice to say: “Won’t you take one of these comfortable rockers, Mrs. Treble? Perhaps we had better first talk the matter over a little.”