'You have our sympathy, you have our sympathy,' till she felt quite giddy. There was a flower show--all the flowers were white. There was a concert--all the tunes were old ones. There was a play called _Put yourself in her place_. And there was a banquet, with Amabel in the place of honour. They drank her health in white wine whey, and then through the Crystal Hall of a thousand gleaming pillars, where thousands of guests, all in white, were met to do honour to Amabel, the shout went up--'Speech, speech!' I cannot explain to you what had been going on in Amabel's mind. Perhaps you know. Whatever it was it began like a very tiny butterfly in a box, that could not keep quiet, but fluttered, and fluttered, and fluttered. And when the Mayor rose and said: 'Dear Amabel, you whom we all love and understand; dear Amabel, you who were so unjustly punished for trying to give pleasure to an unresponsive aunt; poor, ill-used, ill-treated, innocent Amabel; blameless, suffering Amabel, we await your words,' that fluttering, tiresome butterfly-thing inside her seemed suddenly to swell to the size and strength of a fluttering albatross, and Amabel got up from her seat of honour on the throne of ivory and silver and pearl, and said, choking a little, and extremely red about the ears-- 'Ladies and gentlemen, I don't want to make a speech, I just want to say, "Thank you," and to say--to say--to say....' She stopped, and all the white crowd cheered. 'To say,' she went on as the cheers died down, 'that I wasn't blameless, and innocent, and all those nice things. I ought to have thought. And they _were_ Auntie's flowers. But I did want to please her. It's all so mixed. Oh, I wish Auntie was here!' And instantly Auntie _was_ there, very tall and quite nice-looking, in a white velvet dress and an ermine cloak. 'Speech,' cried the crowd. 'Speech from Auntie!' Auntie stood on the step of the throne beside Amabel, and said: 'I think, perhaps, I was hasty. And I think Amabel meant to please me. But all the flowers that were meant for the winter ... well--I was annoyed. I'm sorry.' 'Oh, Auntie, so am I--so am I,' cried Amabel, and the two began to hug each other on the ivory step, while the crowd cheered like mad, and the band struck up that well-known air, 'If you only understood!' 'Oh, Auntie,' said Amabel among hugs, 'This is such a lovely place, come and see everything, we may, mayn't we?' she asked the Mayor. 'The place is yours,' he said, 'and now you can see many things that you couldn't see before. We are The People who Understand. And now you are one of Us. And your aunt is another.' I must not tell you all that they saw because these things are secrets only known to The People who Understand, and perhaps you do not yet belong to that happy nation. And if you do, you will know without my telling you.