“Very much,” he returned, shocked and embarrassed at the position in which he found himself put by the reticence of his wife on the subject of her relations. “They think I have come in reply to a letter,” he mused, “and I did not even know my wife had received one.” “You will be surprised,” she exclaimed with a complacent nod as the fire blazed up brightly; “every one is surprised who sees her for the first time. Is my niece well?” And thus it was he learned the relation between his wife of ten years and these simple inhabitants of the little cottage in Grotewell. He replied as in duty bound, and presently by the use of a few dexterous questions succeeded in eliciting from this simple-minded old lady, the few facts necessary to a proper understanding of the situation. Miss Abby and Miss Belinda were two maiden ladies, sisters of Mrs. Fairchild and Ona’s mother, who on the death of the former took up their abode in the little cottage for the purpose of bringing up the orphan Paula. They had succeeded in this by dint of the utmost industry, but Paula was not a common child, and Belinda, who was evidently the autocrat of the house, had decided that she ought to have other advantages. She had therefore written to Mrs. Sylvester concerning the child, in the hopes that that lady would take enough interest in her pretty little cousin to send her to boarding-school; but they had received no reply till now, all of which was perfectly right of course, Mrs. Sylvester being undoubtedly occupied and Mr. Sylvester himself being better than any letter. “And does Paula herself know what efforts you have been making in her behalf,” asked Mr. Sylvester upon the receipt of this information. The little lady shook her head with vivacity. “Belinda advised me to say nothing,” she remarked. “The child is contented with her home and we did not like to raise her expectations. You will never regret anything you may do for her,” she went on in a hurried way with a peep now and then towards the door as if while enjoying a momentary freedom of speech, she feared an intrusion that would cut that pleasure short. “Paula is a grateful child and never has given us a moment of concern from the time she began to put pieces of patchwork together. But there is Belinda,” she suddenly exclaimed, rising with the little dip and jerk of her left shoulder that was habitual to her whenever she was amused or excited. “Belinda,” she cried, going to the door and speaking with great impressiveness, “Mr. Sylvester is in the parlor.” And almost instantly a tall middle aged lady entered, whose plain but powerful countenance and dignified demeanor, stamped her at once as belonging to a very different type of woman from her sister. “I am very glad to see you sir,” she exclaimed in a slow determined voice as dissimilar as possible from the piping tones of Miss Abby. “Is not Mrs. Sylvester with you?” “No,” returned he, “I have come alone; my wife is not fond of travelling in winter.”