It did not matter to me that my aunt was odd and old-fashioned in her dress, and still more odd and eccentric in her manner and conversation, to me she was the kind aunt who had cared for my wants, and treated me as kindly as a mother could have done, and to one of my nature this was sufficient to claim my affection and respect.  This journey was quite an event in the usually quiet and stay-at-home life of my aunt, but she allowed that having made up her mind she had but one life to live, she might as well enjoy herself sometimes as other folks.  Grandma Adams fairly wept when I bade her good-bye, saying:  “who will read to me while you are gone, Walter? and it may be when you come back you will find the old arm-chair empty.  No one is certain of a day of life but remember the saying ‘the young may die, but the old must die.’  I hope to see you again, but should I not, strive to become a good and useful man, and remember my counsels.”  Uncle Nathan shook me warmly by the hand, and hoped to see me return soon, telling me also, with a comical look, to take good care of Aunt Lucinda on the journey, as she was young and inexperienced, and not accustomed to travelling.  “Nathan Adams,” replied my aunt, “if you must talk, do try sometimes and talk with a little sense.”

I was fearful of missing the train, so long was my aunt in giving directions to the Widow Green, who had come to keep house during her absence.  Grandma allowed that though the widow might not understand all the ways of the house, with her help they could get along tolerably well for a few weeks.  “Never fear, mother,” said Uncle Nathan.  “There’ll be no one to scold while Lucinda’s away, and we’ll get along famously.  Only I suppose we will be called to a startling account when the rightful mistress of the house returns.”  We soon took our places in the carriage which awaited us, and, taking his place on the front seat, Uncle Nathan started the impatient horse into a swift trot toward Fulton, where we were to meet the train which was to bear us to Elmwood.

CHAPTER XVI.

It must be confessed that my aunt’s quaint style of dress contrasted somewhat strongly with many of the fashionably attired lady passengers in the same car.  I presume this gave her little uneasiness, for she cared little for the opinion of others in matters pertaining to dress; and she regarded the slightly quizzical glances of some of the passengers with cool indifference.  Her apparel was of quite rich material, but the style dated backward for many years, and the bonnet she wore was quite too large to be considered fashionable.  Directly in front of us were seated two young ladies, dressed in the extreme of fashion, who seemed to consider it their privilege to amuse themselves by observing and passing remarks to each other, in an undertone, upon the dress and appearance generally of the other passengers.  When we took the vacant seat behind them, we were