“I wish you could hear Bob tell the story, the funny part, I mean,” she continued, narrating, as well as she could, the particulars of Lieutenant Bob’s meeting with Aunt Betsy, who, as the story progressed and she recognized herself in the queer old Yankee woman, who shook hands with the conductor and was going to law about a sheep pasture, dropped her head lower and lower over her pan of peaches, while a scarlet flush spread itself all over her thin face, but changed into a grayish white as Bell concluded with “Bob says the memory of that hand lifted above his head haunted him day and night, during the period of his uncertainty, and was at last the means of saving him from treachery to his country.”

“Thank God!” came involuntarily from Aunt Betsy’s quivering lips, and, looking up, Bell saw the great tears running down her cheeks, tears which she wiped away with her arm, while she said faintly:  “That old woman, who made a fool of herself in the cars, was me!”

“You, Miss Barlow, you!” Bell exclaimed, forgetting in her astonishment to carry to her mouth the luscious half peach she had intended for that purpose, and dropping it untasted into the pan, while Katy, who had been listening with some considerable interest, came quickly forward, saying:  “You, Aunt Betsy!  When were you in New York, and why did I never know it?”

It could not be kept back, and, unmindful of Bell, Helen explained to Katy as well as she could the circumstances of Aunt Betsy’s visit to New York the previous winter.

“And she never let me know it, or come to see me, because—­because—­” Katy hesitated, and looked at Bell, who said, pertly:  “Because Will is so abominably proud, and would have made such a fuss.  Don’t spoil a story for relations’ sake, I beg,” and the young lady laughed good humoredly, restoring peace to all save Katy, whose face wore a troubled look, and who soon stole away to her mother, whom she questioned further with regard to a circumstance which seemed so mysterious to her.

“Miss Barlow,” Bell said, when Katy was gone, “you will forgive one for repeating that story as I did.  Of course I had no idea it was you of whom I was talking.”

Bell was very earnest, and her eyes looked pleadingly upon Aunt Betsy, who answered her back:  “There’s nothing to forgive.  You only told the truth.  I did make an old fool of myself, but if I helped that boy to a right decision, my journey did some good, and I ain’t sorry now if I did go to the playhouse.  I confessed that to the sewing circle, and Mrs. Deacon Bannister ain’t seemed the same toward me since, but I don’t care.  I beat her on the election to first directress of the Soldiers’ Aid.  She didn’t run half as well as me.  That chap you call Bob, is he anything to you?  Is he your beau?”

It was Bell’s turn now to blush and then grow white, while Helen lightly touching the superb diamond on her first finger, said:  “That indicates as much.  When did it happen, Bell?”