Aunt Charlotte would not budge. Then, at the wrong moment, she would dart suddenly across to the accompaniment of the startled whoop or curse of a driver, chauffeur, or car conductor obliged to draw a quick rein or jam on an emergency brake to avoid running her down. Lottie, knowing all this, sped toward Wabash Avenue with fear in her heart, and a sort of anger born of fear. "Oh, dear! It does seem to me she might have waited. Mother didn't want a thing. Not a thing. I told her----" She came to the corner of Wabash and Madison where they always took the Indiana Avenue car. She saw a little group of people near the curb and her heart contracted as she sped on, but when she came up to them it was only a balky automobile engine that had drawn their attention. She looked across at the corner which was their car-stop. There stood Aunt Charlotte. At once cowering, brave; terrified, courageous. At sight of that timorous, peering, black-garbed figure Lottie gave a little sob. The blood rushed back to her heart as though it had lain suspended in her veins. "Aunt Charlotte, why did you do it?" "I got across alone." "But why didn't you wait for me? You knew----" "I got across alone. But the street car--the wagons never stopping so a body can get out to the street car. And no way of telling whether it was an Indiana or a Cottage Grove. But I got across alone." She had her five-cent piece in her black-gloved trembling hand. Safely in the car, Lottie waxed stern again. "Why didn't you wait, Aunt Charlotte? You knew I'd be back as soon as I could. I didn't mean to be late. That was awfully naughty of you, Charlotte Thrift." Aunt Charlotte was looking out of the car window. What she saw must have been little more than a blur to her. But something told Lottie that in the dim eyes turned away from her was still another blur--a blur of hot mist. Lottie leaned forward, covering with her own firm cool young grasp the hand that lay so inertly in the black silk lap. "What is it? Why----" Aunt Charlotte turned and Lottie saw that what she had sensed was true. "It isn't right!" said Aunt Charlotte almost fiercely, and yet in a half-whisper, for the car was crowded and she had a horror of attracting public notice. "What isn't?" "Your calling for me, and bringing me back. Every day. Every day." "Now! You're just a little blue to-day; but the doctor said you'd only have to come down for treatment a week or two more." "It isn't me. It's you. Your life! Your life!" A little flush crept into Lottie's face. "It's all right, dear." "It isn't all right. Don't you think I know!" Aunt Charlotte's voice suddenly took on a deep and resonant note--the note of exhortation. "Lottie, you're going to be eaten alive by two old cannibal women. I know. I know. Don't you let 'em! You've got your whole life before you. Live it the way you want to. Then you'll have only yourself to blame. Don't you let somebody else live it for you. Don't you."