She then had her share of camel-rides and bears, and by the time Nannie came I began to feel that I had earned my breakfast.  I was one of the first down, and Bindon was evidently waiting for me, because as I went into the dining-room he took up his position behind a certain chair, which action on his part plainly indicated that I was to sit there.  I wondered why.  Could it be that I had arrived at the age when it is advisable for a woman to sit back to the light at breakfast?  Was this only another instance of Bindon’s devotion to us all?  That the credit of the family is paramount in his mind, I know!  All this flashed through my mind, but I saw a moment later that it was not of my complexion that Bindon thought, for on a plate before the chair behind which he stood, lay a small dark gray wad about the size of a five-shilling piece.  I hesitated., and Bindon said in an undertone, “Miss Betty made it.”  Not a muscle of his face moved.

I sat down and gazed at the awful result of my present to Betty.  The —­ what shall I call it? —­ was gray, as I said before; it had a crisscross pattern on it, deeply indented, and snugly sunk in the middle of it was a currant.  I sighed.  My duty as a professional aunt was clear:  had I not in a moment of weakness said I would eat anything Betty made, provided it was a proper thing?  Had I here a loophole of escape?  No, it was certainly, according to Betty’s lights, a most proper thing.  But why does dough, in the hands of the cleanest child, become dark gray?

Bindon, having done his duty by Betty, and not being able on this occasion to do it by both of us, made no further explanation.  Like the first step, it is no doubt the first bite that costs most dearly; and while I was pondering whether to take two bites or swallow it whole, Mr. Dudley came in and sat down opposite me.  He is a young man who thinks that no woman he doesn’t know can be worth knowing.  When by force of circumstances he comes to know a fresh one, he always tells her he feels as if he had known her all her life, and talks of a previous existence, and so gets over a difficulty.  I felt that it was a tribute to Diana that he treated me so kindly, and I earned his gratitude and commanded his respect by refusing food at his hands.  I said I liked helping myself at breakfast.  He insisted, however, on passing me the toast.  This I felt was apart from Diana altogether.

After a few moments the little gray wad attracted his attention, and his eyebrows expressed a wish to know what it was.

“Betty made it,” I said.

“And what is it? "

“I wonder!” I said.  “I think it must come under the head of black bread.”

" What are you going to do with it?” he asked.

I answered, “Why, eat it, of course; only I can’t make up my mind how.  What should you say, two bites or a swallow?”

His interest was now thoroughly aroused; he had evidently never before met an aunt professionally.  He looked at me solemnly and said, “You are going to eat that?”