This strong declaration struck Herbert as one of the most impressive things he had ever heard, though he could not account for its being said to any aunt of his.  Herbert had just dropped in without the formality of ringing the bell, and had paused in the hall, outside the open door of the living-room.  He considered the matter, after Newland had spoken, and concluded to return to his own place of residence without disturbing anybody at his grandfather’s.  At home he found his mother and father entertaining one of his uncles, one of his aunts, two of his great-uncles, one of his great-aunts, and one of his grown-up cousins, at cards:  and he proved to be warranted in believing that they would all like to know what he had heard.  Newland’s statement became quite celebrated throughout the family:  and Julia, who had perceived almost a sacred something in his original fervour, changed her mind after hearing the words musingly repeated, over and over, by her fat old Uncle Joe.

Florence thought proper to remind her of this to-day, after Julia’s protest containing the too moderately confessional word “three.”

“If you don’t want to be such a circus,” the niece continued, reasoning perfectly, “I don’t see what you always keep leadin’ all of ’em on all the time just the same for.”

“Who’ve you heard saying that, Florence?” her aunt demanded.

“Aunt Fanny Patterson,” Florence replied absently.  “F’r instance, Aunt Julia, I don’t see what you want to go walking with Newland Sanders for, when you said yourself you wished he was dead, or somep’n, after there got to be so muck talk in the family and everywhere about his sayin’ all that about the Bible when you hurt your thumb.  All the family——­”

Julia sighed profoundly.  “I wish ‘all the family’ would try to think about themselves for just a little while!  There’s entirely too little self-centredness among my relatives to suit me!”

“Why, it’s only because you’re related to me that I pay the very slightest attention to what goes on here,” Florence protested.  “It’s my own grandfather’s house, isn’t it?  Well, if you didn’t live here, and if you wasn’t my own grandfather’s daughter, Aunt Julia, I wouldn’t ever pay the very slightest attention to you!  Anyway, I don’t much criticize all these people that keep calling on you—­anyway not half as much as Herbert does.  Herbert thinks he always hass to act so critical, now his voice is changing.”

“At your age,” said Julia, “my mind was on my schoolbooks.”

“Why, Aunt Julia!” Florence exclaimed in frank surprise.  “Grandpa says just the opposite from that.  I’ve heard him say, time and time and time again, you always were this way, ever since you were four years old.”

“What way?” asked her aunt.

“Like you are now, Aunt Julia.  Grandpa says by the time you were fourteen it got so bad he had to get a new front gate, the way they leaned on it.  He says he hoped when you grew up he’d get a little peace in his own house, but he says it’s worse, and never for one minute the livelong day can he——­”