her none, though I liked her better than ever.  She was business-like and observant.  Her tendencies, never romantic, were less selfish; it was no longer society, dress, housekeeping, which absorbed her, but a larger interest in the world which gave her a desire to associate with men and women, independent of caste.  None of her children were with her; had it been three years earlier, she would not have left home without them.  Her hair was a little gray, and a wrinkle or two had gathered about her mouth; but there was no other change.  I was not sorry to have her go, for she paid me a close and quiet observation.  At the moment of departure, she said in an undertone:  “What has become of that candor of which you were so proud?” “I am more candid than ever,” I answered, “for I am silent.”

“I understand you better, now that I have seen you en famille."

“What do you think now?”

“I don’t think I know; the Puritans have much to answer for in your mother—­” Turning to her she said, “My children, too, are so different.”

Mother gave her a sad smile, as Fanny announced the carriage, and they drove away.

“No more visitors this year,” said Veronica, yawning.

“No agreeable ones, I fancy,” I answered.

“All the relations have had their turn for this year,” remarked Aunt Merce.  But she was mistaken; an old lady came soon after this to spend the winter.  She lived but four miles from Surrey, but brought with her all her clothes, and a large green parrot, which her son had brought from foreign parts.  Her name was Joy Morgeson; the fact of her being cousin to father’s grandmother entitled her to a raid upon us at any season, and to call us “cousins.”  She felt, she said, that she must come and attend the meetings regular, for her time upon earth was short.  But Joy was a hearty woman still, and, pious as she was, delighted in rough and scandalous stories, the telling of which gave her severe fits of repentance.  She quilted elaborate petticoats for us, knit stockings for Arthur, and was useful.  Mr. and Mrs. Elisha Peckham surprised us next.  They arrived from “up country” and stayed two weeks.  I did not clearly understand why they came before they went; but as they enjoyed their visit, it was of little consequence whether I did or not.

Midwinter passed, and we still had company.  There was much to do, but it was done without system.  Mother or Aunt Merce detailed from their ordinary duties as keeper of the visitors, Fanny was for the first time able to make herself of importance in the family tableaux, and assumed cares no one had thought of giving her.  She left the town-school, telling mother that learning would be of no use to her.  The rights of a human being merely was what she wanted; she should fight for them; that was what paupers must do.  Mother allowed her to do as she pleased.  Her duties commenced with calling us up to breakfast en masse, and for once the experiment was successful, for we all met at the table.  The dining-room was in complete order, a thing that had never happened early before; the rest of us missed the straggling breakfast which consumed so much time.