Bell had tried to stop her, but she had rattled on until now it was too late, and she could not recall her words, however much she might wish to do so.  “Don’t tell Will,” she was about to say, when Will himself appeared, to take Katy out to dinner.  Very beautiful and sad were the blue eyes which looked up at him so wistfully, and nothing but the remembrance of Juno’s words, “He likes you best of all,” kept Katy from crying outright, when he took her hand, passing it between his own and asking if she was tired.

“Let us try what dinner will do for you,” he said, and in silence Katy went with him to the pleasant dining-room, where the glare and the ceremony bewildered her, bringing a homesick feeling as she thought of Silverton, contrasting the elegance around her with the plain tea table, graced with the mulberry set instead of the costly china before her.

Never had Katy felt so embarrassed in her life as she did this night, when seated for the first time at dinner in her husband’s home, with all those criticising eyes upon her, as she knew they were.  She had been very hungry, but her appetite was gone, and she almost loathed the rich food offered her, feeling so glad when the dinner was ended, and Wilford asked if she would go then to Jamie’s room.  He was sitting in his wheel-chair when they went in, and his eyes turned eagerly toward them, lighting up with pleasure when Wilford said:  “This is your Aunt Katy.  You will love each other, I am sure.”

That they would love each other was very apparent from the kisses Katy pressed upon his lips, and the way in which his arms clung around her neck as he said:  “I am glad you have come, Aunt Katy, and you will tell me of the good doctor.  He is your cousin, Uncle Wilford says.”

With Jamie Katy was perfectly at her ease.  There was some affinity between him and herself, and she was glad when Wilford left them alone, as he wisely did, going back to where his mother and sisters were freely discussing his bride, his mother calling her a mere child, who would improve, and Juno saying she had neither manner nor style, while Bell offered no opinion, except that she was pretty.  A part of these criticisms Wilford heard, and they made his blood tingle, for he had great faith in their opinions, even though he sometimes savagely combated them, and into his heart there crept a slight feeling of dissatisfaction toward Katy, now kneeling on the floor by Jamie’s side, and with her head almost in his lap, talking to him of Morris Grant, whose very name had a strange power to soothe her.

“You don’t seem like an aunt,” Jamie said at last, smoothing her short hair; “you look so like a girl.  I wonder, must I call you so?  I guess I must, though, for Uncle Will told me to, and we all mind him, grandma and all!  Do you?” and the child looked curiously at her.