“Really, Katherine,” said Aunt Aggie, “you might have let me take it after all. I may be useless in most ways and not worth anyone’s consideration, but at least I’m still able to walk up Oxford Street in safety!” Her aunt’s tones were so bitter that Katherine looked across at her in some dismay. Aunt Betty did not assist the affair by saying: “Why, Aggie dear, who ever supposed you couldn’t; I’m sure you can do anything you want to!” “Well, perhaps, next time,” Aunt Aggie said sharply. “When I offer some help someone will listen to me. _I_ should not have forgotten the book.” “I _can’t_ think why _I_ did,” said Katherine, “I remembered it just before I started, and then something happened—” Aunt Aggie looked about her, and thought that this would be a very good opportunity for discovering the real state of Katherine’s mind. “You must take care, Katherine dear,” she said, “you don’t seem to me to have been quite yourself lately. I’ve noticed a number of little things. You’re tired, I think.” Katherine laughed. “Why should I be? I’ve had nothing to make me.” It was then that Aunt Aggie caught a look of strange, almost furtive anxiety in Harriet’s eyes. Following this, for the swiftest moment, Katherine and her mother exchanged a gleam of affection, of reassurance, of confidence. “Ah!” thought Aunt Aggie, “they’re laughing at me. _Everyone’s_ laughing at me.” “My dear Katherine,” she snapped, “I’m sure _I_ don’t know what’s tired you, but I think you must realise what I mean. You are not your normal self; and, if your old aunt may say so, that’s a pity.” Millie, looking across at her sister, was astonished to see the colour rising in her cheeks. Katherine was annoyed! Katherine minded Aunt Aggie! Katherine, who was never out of temper—never perturbed! and at Aunt Aggie! “Really, Aunt Aggie,” Katherine said, “it’s very tiresome if all the family are going to watch one day and night as though one were something from the Zoo. Tiresome is not nearly strong enough.” Her aunt smiled bitterly. “It’s only my affection for you,” she said. “But of course you don’t want that. Why should you? One day, however, you may remember that someone once cared whether you were tired or not.” Aunt Aggie’s hands trembled on her lap. Katherine shook her head impatiently. “I’m very grateful for your kindness—but I’d much rather be left alone. I’m not tired, nor odd, nor anything—so, please, don’t tell me that I am.” Aggie rose from her chair, and very slowly with trembling fingers drew her work together. “I think,” she said, her voice quivering a little, “that I’ll go to bed. Next time you wish to insult me, Katherine, I’d rather you did it when we were alone.” A very slow and stately figure, she walked down the drawing-room and disappeared. There was a moment’s silence.