“Well, Aunt Patience,” she said, in subdued tones, “I am treating you just the same as if you were Lady Hartmore.” “And no more than is my due, Patty. I might have been my lady many and many’s the year if I’d had an Aunt Patience as would have done for me as I’ve done for you. Has she been to call already? She’s one as always respects the rising sun.” “No,” said Patty, still more subdued, “she has not been yet--but that’s easy explained, where there’s been so lately a death in the house.” “And a good thing for you, too! If ever there was a tyrant of a woman---- But I see you’re in deep crape, Patty, to show your grief.” “I hope I know better than to show any want of respect to my mother-in-law. And I think, Aunt Patience, you might have known better than to come to a house that’s in such mourning with all these colours on your head.” “My bonnet!” cried Miss Hewitt. She caught sight of herself in a glass, and bridled and smiled at herself, instinctively arranging the bow of red ribbon that was tied under her chin. “I never had such a becoming bonnet in my life; and as for mourning, there’s nobody could expect me to put on black for her.” “No,” said Patty, “and that’s why I hadn’t expected even a call from you, Aunt Patience, during the mourning--not being in any way a real connection of the house.” Miss Hewitt fixed her eyes very wide open upon those of her niece, and the two maintained a silent combat by that method for at least a minute. It was the elder who gave in the first. “If that’s how you’re going to treat your own relations,” she said, “Patty, you’ll not see much of me. And I can tell you, as well as if it had happened already, you won’t see much of other folks. There’s none of the grand people as you’re looking for that will come near the place. The rector’ll call because he’s bound to, and because you was once his show girl at the Sunday School; and the new curate will call to see if he can get a subscription for something, but, mark you my words: nobody else--no, not a soul! and when you’ve bundled everybody belonging to you out of your doors, then you’ll see who you’ll have to speak to. I’m sorry for you, Patty, I am indeed.” “Are you, Aunt Patience?” cried Patty, with defiance. “When it comes to that, I’ll send for you back.” “It’s a deal easier,” said Miss Hewitt sententiously, “to whistle folks away than to bring them back.”