I held my breath. Aunt Elizabeth looked so pretty. She was dressed, as I never saw her before, a close-fitting black gown and a plain white collar and a little close black hat. She looked almost like some sister of charity. “Ada,” said she, “and Peggy, I am going to tell you something, and it is my particular desire that you keep it from the whole family. They would not understand. I am going to ally myself with Mrs. Chataway in a connection which will lead to the widest possible influence for her and for me. In Mrs. Chataway's letter to-day she urges me to join her. She says I have enormous magnetism and--and other qualifications.” “Don't you want me to tell Cyrus?” said mother. She spoke quite faintly. “You can simply tell Cyrus that I have gone to Mrs. Chataway's,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “You can also tell him I shall be too occupied to return. Good-bye, Ada. Good-bye, Peggy. Remember, it is the bruised herb that gives out the sweetest odor.” Before I could stop myself I had laughed, out of happiness, I think. For I remembered how the spearmint had smelled in the garden when Stillman Dane and I stepped on it in the dark and how bright the moon was, and I knew nobody could be unhappy very long. “I telephoned for a carriage,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “There it is.” She and mother were going down the stairs, and suddenly I felt I couldn't have her go like that. “Oh, Aunt--Aunt Lily!” I called. “Stop! I want to speak to you.” I ran after her. “I'm going to have a profession, too,” I said. “I'm going to devote my life to it, and I am just as glad as I can be.” I put my arms round her and kissed her on her soft, pink cheeks, and we both cried a little. Then she went away. XII. THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY, by Henry Van Dyke “Eastridge, June 3, 1907. “To Gerrit Wendell, The Universe Club, New York: “Do you remember promise? Come now, if possible. Much needed. “Cyrus Talbert.”