"I have never felt so," answered Margaret. "I have never for a moment begrudged it to you. You know my father died suddenly, and his will, made long before I was born, had not been changed. So what was more natural than for my mother to have the house during her lifetime, with the provision that it should revert to his favourite sister afterward, if she still lived?" "I have cheated you by living, Margaret, and your mother was cut off in her prime. She was a hard woman." "Yes," sighed Margaret, "she was. But I think she meant to be kind." "I knew her very little; in fact, the only chance that I ever had to get acquainted with her was when I came here for a short visit just after you were married. The house had been closed for a long time. She took you away with her, and when she came back she was alone. Then she wrote to me, asking me to share her loneliness for a time, and I consented." The way was open for confidences, but Margaret made none, and Aunt Peace respected her for it. "We never knew each other very well, did we?" asked the old lady, in a tone that indicated no need of an answer. "I remember that when I was here I yearned over you just as I did over Iris several years later. I wanted to give to you out of my abundance; to make you happy and comfortable." "Dear Aunt Peace," said Margaret, softly, "you are doing it now, when perhaps I need it even more than I did then. All your life you have been making people happy and comfortable." "I hope so--it is what I have tried to do. By the way, when I am through with it, this house goes to you, then to Lynn and his children after him." "Thank you." For an instant Margaret's pulses throbbed with the joy of possession, then the blood retreated from her heart in shame. "I have made ample provision for Iris," Miss Field went on. "She is my own dear daughter, but she is not of our line." At this moment, Iris came around the house, laughing and screaming, with Lynn in full pursuit. Mrs. Irving went to the window and came back with an amused light in her eyes. "What is the matter?" asked Aunt Peace. "Lynn is chasing her. He had something in his fingers that looked like an angle-worm." "No doubt. Iris is afraid of worms." "I'll go out and speak to him." "No--let them fight it out. We are never young but once, and Youth asks no greater privilege than to fight its own battles. It is mistaken kindness to shield--it weakens one in the years to come." "Youth," repeated Margaret. "The most beautiful gift of the gods, which we never appreciate until it is gone forever."