Aunt Pike’s mouth twitched a little at the corners as she opened her work-basket and took out two rather shabby gloves.  “One was under the table; some one picked up the other in the garden.  They are not holey now; I have mended them.  But I expect Kitty would never find it out if you did not tell her.”

“A year or two ago she would not have,” said her father, as he took the gloves and put them in his pocket, “but I think she would now.”

“She has changed,” said Aunt Pike gently.  “We all have.”

“Yes, she has changed—­in some respects; in others I hope she never may.”

“I think you need not fear that, John,” said Aunt Pike sympathetically.  Silence fell on them both for a few moments, then Mrs. Pike spoke again.  “John, will you be sure to tell Kitty to come here to-morrow, and Dan and all of them in fact, to welcome Anna home for the Christmas holidays?  I have a surprise in store for them too, but you mustn’t breathe a word of it.  Pamela is coming too, to spend part of her holidays with us.  I thought she would do Anna good.  Then perhaps you would like to have her with you for the rest of the time.  We mustn’t forget that she was Kitty’s friend first.  But don’t you breathe a word of this to Kitty.”

“Very well,” said the doctor; then, with a pretended sigh, he added, “I am thankful, though, that my Christmas puddings and things are already made, for I foresee there will be nothing more done now.  You wicked woman, to plot so against my peace and comfort.”

But Aunt Pike did not look repentant, she only chuckled.  “Even housekeepers must have a holiday at Christmas,” she said, “and I am sure yours deserves a good one.”