Up the quiet street the leafless trees made a gray vista that melted into transparent mist.  The sunshine stretched in pale gold bars from sidewalk to sidewalk, and overhead the sky was of a rare Italian blue.  But for the frost in the air and the naked boughs, it might have been a day in April.

Presently the carriage turned into Main Street, halting abruptly while a trolley car shot past.  “Please be very careful,” called Miss Chris nervously, gathering herself together as they stopped before a big gray house that faced a gray church on the opposite corner.  A flight of stone steps ran from the doorway to a short tesselated entrance leading to the street, where two scraggy poplars still held aloft the withered skeletons of last year’s tulips.  The Webbs had taken the house because the box bushes in the yard reminded Eugenia of Battle Hall, while Dudley declared it to be the best breathing space he could get for the money.

“We done git back, Mistis,” announced the negro driver, descending from his perch, and at the same instant the door of the house flew open and Eugenia ran out, bareheaded, followed by Dudley.

“I saw you from the window, Aunt Chris,” she cried, “and now I want to know the meaning of this mystery.  Dudley suspects you of having a lover, but I am positive that you’ve stolen a march on me and have been to market.  What a pity I confessed to you that I couldn’t tell brains from sweetbreads.”

“Let me get there, Eugie,” said Dudley, as Miss Chris emerged with the assistance of the driver.  “Take my arm, Aunt Chris, and I’ll hoist you into the house before you know it.”

“Well, I declare,” remarked Miss Chris, carefully stepping forth.  “I don’t know when I’ve had such a turn.  These street car drivers have lost all their manners.  If we hadn’t pulled up in time, I believe he would have gone right into us.  And to think that a few years ago we never got ready to go to market until the car was at the door.  Betty Taylor used to call to the driver every morning to wait till she put on her bonnet—­and time and again I’ve seen him stop because she had forgotten her list of groceries.  Now, if you weren’t standing right on the corner, I actually believe they’d go by without you.”

“That’s progress, Aunt Chris,” responded Dudley cheerfully.

Here the driver insisted upon lending a hand, and between them they established Miss Chris before the fire in the sitting-room.  “I wish you’d make Giles go out and pick up that loose paper that’s scattered on the pavement,” she said to Eugenia.  “It looks so untidy.  If I wasn’t rheumatic I’d do it myself.”

Dudley and Eugenia seated themselves across from her.  “Now where have you been, Aunt Chris?” they demanded.

Miss Chris laughed softly as she took off her bonnet and gloves and gave them to Eugenia; then she unfastened her cape and passed it over.

“You’ll never find out that, my dears,” she returned.  “I’m not too old to keep a secret.  Why, I’ve gone and lost my bag.  Didn’t I carry that bag with me, Eugenia?”