Aunt Anna is one of those jewels who owe a certain amount to their setting.

Her husband calls her a jewel, and as such she is known by the family in general which recalls to my mind an interesting biennial custom which was said to hold good in the Manwell family.  Every time a lesser jewel made its appearance, the mother-jewel was presented with a diamond and ruby ornament of varying magnificence, with the words “The price of a good woman is far above rubies” conveniently inscribed thereon.

Aunt Anna took it all very seriously, from the tiara downward, and if diamond and ruby shoe-buckles had not involved twins, I think she would have hankered after those, but even as it was, she came in time to possess a very remarkable collection of rubies and diamonds.

Aunt Anna is very prosperous, very happy, very rich, and very contented.

She prides herself on none of these things, but only on the unprejudiced state of her maternal mind.

“Of course,” she says, “I cannot help seeing that my children are more beautiful than other people’s.  It would be ludicrously affected and hypocritical of me if I pretended otherwise.  If they were plain, I should be the first to see it, and —­”

I think she was going to add “say it,” but she stopped short; she invariably does at a deliberate lie, because she is a very truthful woman, and thinks a lie is a wicked thing unless socially a necessity.

I arrived at tea-time which is a thing Aunt Anna expects of her guests.  I noticed that she looked a little less contented than usual, and that she even gave way to a gesture of impatience when Mrs. Blankley asked for a fifth cup of tea.  Mrs. Blankley is a great advocate of temperance.  In connection with which, Aunt Anna once said that she thought there should be temperance in all things beginning with “t.”  Which vague saying, as illustrative of her wit, was treasured up by her indulgent husband and quoted “As Anna so funnily said.”

Now as Aunt Anna, we know, never says witty things unless under strong provocation, she rarely says them, for she is of an amazingly even temperament.  She often says she considers cleverness a very dangerous gift.  It is not one I seek for either myself or my children.  It is so easy to say clever, unkind things.  Every one can do it if they choose; the difficulty is not to say them.

It is evident that Aunt Anna chooses the harder part.

Mrs. Blankley, having disposed of the fifth cup of tea, expressed a desire to see the pigs.  Aunt Anna never goes to see pigs, nor demands that sacrifice of Londoners, for which act of consideration I honor her; not but what I am fond of pigs, black ones and small.  Aunt Anna knows that there are such things because of the continual presence of bacon in her midst.  She also knows that pigs are things that get prizes.  She still clings to her childish belief that streaky bacon comes from feeding the pigs one day and not the next.