/s BLUE 
 AUNT 
 
 ELIZA 
 ORNE 
 
 WJjll. X X^ 
 
 " ] ."^ 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924012880963 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 3174.W5B6 
 
 The blue aunt. 
 
 3 1924 012 880 963 
 
^8p ©Ii?a ©rnt Wl)itt 
 
 NOVELS 
 
 THE FIRST STEP. 
 
 THE WARES OF EDGEFIELD. 
 
 JOHN FORSYTH'S AUNTS. 
 
 LESLEY CHILTON. 
 
 WINTERBOROUGH. 
 
 THE COMING OF THEODORA. 
 
 MISS BROOKS. 
 
 A LOVER OF TRUTH. 
 
 A BROWNING COURTSHIP, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 BOOKS FOR CHILDREN 
 
 THE BLUE AUNT. 
 
 THE ENCHANTED MOUNTAIN. 
 
 BROTHERS IN FUR. 
 
 A BORROWED SISTER. 
 
 AN ONLY CHILD. 
 
 WHEN MOLLY WAS SIX. 
 
 A LITTLE GIRL OF LONG AGO. 
 
 EDNAH AND HER BROTHERS. 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 Boston and New York 
 
THE BLUE AUNT 
 
' /'J ■ 
 
 •r^. 
 
 z^ 
 
 (^page l8) 
 SHE HAS N'T ANY DRESSES BUT THE ONE SHE HAS ON 
 
COrVKIGBT, 191S, BY ELIZA ORNE WHITE 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Puilished Septemhey iqjS 
 
To Four Little Sisters 
 
 Mart, Edith, Eleanor, and Margaret 
 
 this book 
 
 is affectionately dedicated 
 
Contents 
 
 I. The Letter 1 
 
 II. The Blue Aunt comes 9 
 
 III. Nancy Merrifield and the Stranger ... 21 
 
 IV. The Plaid Dress 31 
 
 V. Evelyn's War Work 41 
 
 VI. The Blue Aunt's Plan 53 
 
 VII. A Safe and Sane Fourth of July .... 59 
 
 VIII. The Journey 69 
 
 IX. The Little Gays 79 
 
 X. The Birthday Dinner 91 
 
 XL The Story 100 
 
 XII. Jim and the Orphans 107 
 
 XIII. The Home-Coming 120 
 
 XIV. The Letter from France 187 
 
 XV. The Thanksgiving Candle 134 
 
THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 I 
 
 The Letter 
 
 JIM was the first of the family to see the outside 
 of the letter, and it happened in this way. His 
 mother did not go down to breakfast that morning, 
 and when Ann, the housemaid, called him, he turned 
 over and went to sleep again. "When he came down 
 to breakfast his father and his small sister Evelyn 
 had finished their meal, and Ann was clearing off the 
 table. Ann wore spectacles, and Jim thought this 
 was why she always looked so severe. 
 
 "Little boys who are late and don't get up when 
 they are called don't deserve any breakfast," said 
 Ann. 
 
 Jim never liked to argue with Ann, so he slipped 
 out into the kitchen, where cheerful Catherine, the 
 cook, was just finishing her breakfast. Jim thought 
 the kitchen was the pleasantest room in the house. 
 He liked the warm color of the red bricks behind the 
 stove, and the dresser with the blue china dishes on 
 it, and the shining row of pots and pans. He liked 
 the bare floor where one could spill millr or cooky 
 
g THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 crumbs without having any one say, "Be careful, or 
 you'll spoil the rug." But best of all he liked the de- 
 licious things to eat that came out of the oven. 
 
 "I've saved some buckwheat cakes for you," said 
 Catherine, and she took a yellow bowl out of the oven. 
 She always gave him a great deal more syrup than 
 his mother did, and next to his mother he thought 
 Catherine the most charming grown-up person he had 
 ever known. The postman seemed to like her, too, for 
 he always came past the kitchen window and often 
 stopped for a little chat. 
 
 "There's a letter from "Virginia for Mr. West this 
 morning," said the postman, "and it has a black edge 
 all around the envelope, so I'm afraid there is bad 
 news." 
 
 "I'll take the letter up to father," said Jim; and 
 the postman slipped the mail in at the window. 
 
 It was a simshiny morning in early spring, and 
 there was a lilac bush just behind the postman with 
 wee, wee bits of green coming out all over it that 
 would be leaves later on. 
 
 Jim rushed upstairs and burst into his mother's 
 bedroom, where his father sat reading aloud scraps 
 to her from the newspaper. Jim was sure that his 
 mother was the prettiest, sweetest person in the 
 whole world. Her dark hair was rumpled up around 
 her forehead, and was braided in a big braid just as 
 if she were a httle girl. She was propped up in bed 
 with pillows and had on the prettiest pink kimono he 
 
THE LETTER 3 
 
 had ever seen. There was a tray in front of her with 
 a cup of coffee on it and some bread and butter. 
 
 "Mother, did n't Ann bring you up any buck- 
 wheat cakes?" Jim asked. "I'll get some for you 
 right off now." 
 
 "Your mother is having a bad headache. She does 
 n't want any buckwheat cakes," said his father. 
 "Run down and don't interrupt us." 
 
 "But, father, I've got to interrupt; it's something 
 very important; it's a letter with bad news in it from 
 Virginia with a wide black border all round it." 
 
 "I'm afraid your stepfather has died," said Mrs. 
 West. "Poor Matilda. Of course we must ask her 
 to come to us at once." 
 
 "Of course nothing of the kind," said her husband. 
 "You are in no state to have a visitor. It's a great 
 many years since I've seen Matilda. She's nothing 
 to me." 
 
 "Nothing but your half -sister," said Mrs. West. 
 
 Jim was sure that his Aunt Matilda must be a dis- 
 agreeable person, or his father would not have spoken 
 of her in this way. He thought Matilda was the ug- 
 liest name he had ever heard. His mother's name, 
 Sadie, was the prettiest of all, and he Uked his sister's 
 name next best. 
 
 Little Evelyn was curled up on the foot of her 
 mother's bed; he had not seen her at first, for the foot- 
 board was a solid piece of mahogany that had hidden 
 her from view. Evelyn had dark eyes like her mother. 
 
4 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 but her hair was light, and in the sunshine Jim 
 thought it looked as if it were made of gold. Evelyn 
 had some tiny cups and saucers scattered about on 
 the bed, and she began putting them on the edge of 
 her mother's tray. 
 
 "Can Sarah and Matilda have their breakfast 
 now?" asked Evelyn, as she held up her two dolls. 
 Then she looked up and saw that her mother was 
 very sober. 
 
 "Poor, poor Matilda," Mrs. West said. 
 
 Mr. West was reading the letter and giving little 
 grunts as he did so. 
 
 "I don't see why she wants to come to us this sum- 
 mer," he said. "I tell you, you are not well enough to 
 have a visitor. Why can't she stay where she's made 
 her home for the last ten years.'*" 
 
 "But, dearest, of course she stayed with her father; 
 how could she do anything else? " 
 
 "She had certainly better stay on in Virginia, 
 where every one knows her," he said. 
 
 "Yes," said Jim, "she had better stay in Virginia, 
 where every one knows her." 
 
 "You Httle pitcher, go downstairs where you be- 
 long. What do you know about it? Your aunt has 
 lived in Virginia since before you were born." 
 
 Little Evelyn was explaining to her child Matilda, 
 that her great-aunt, who was also named Matilda, 
 had lost her father. She was very fond of her own 
 father, and she got down from the bed and chmbed 
 
THE LETTER 6 
 
 up into his lap. Child as she was she knew that her 
 father was worried about her mother, and that was 
 why he seemed so cross. 
 
 "My little pigeon," said her father, and he stroked 
 her yellow hair: "my little comfort." 
 
 Evelyn put one of her chubby arms around his neck. 
 
 He finished reading the letter and handed it to his 
 wife. "If you are not strong enough to have her here, 
 Sadie, we can perfectly well find her a boarding-place. 
 You see, she suggests that herself. She'll be as blue 
 as indigo, poor thing, and it'll be too hard for you and 
 the children." 
 
 Evelyn had never seen a blue person. She had seen 
 several black people, and she remembered how yellow 
 her mother had looked when she had the jaimdice. 
 She wondered if her aunt had some strange disease. 
 If so, she must be very, very good to her so as to 
 make up for it. 
 
 Mrs. West was crying over the letter. "It is very 
 pathetic what she says about wanting to be near some 
 of her own people," she said. "I'll write as well as 
 you, and we'll ask her to come to us at once for the 
 summer. It would n't be such a very long visit, for 
 she says she has other plans for the autumn."* 
 
 "Sadie, you are always too impulsive. I've seen so 
 little of her since she grew up, and I don't know at all 
 how you'd get on. We'll ask her to come to us for a 
 fortnight. She does n't suggest coming for more than 
 a fortnight." 
 
6 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "That wouldn't be decent, James. We must at 
 least ask her for a month." 
 
 . "What color is indigo blue?" Evelyn asked Jim. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the day on which the letter 
 came, and the two children were building a block 
 house in the nursery. 
 
 "It is a dark, ugly shade of blue." 
 
 "Poor Aunt Matilda!" said Evelyn. 
 
 "I guess she's a perfectly horrid person," said Jim, 
 "for father seems to hate her, and you don't hate your 
 sister if she's nice." 
 
 "I should think anybody would be hateful if they 
 had a disease that made them an ugly shade of blue," 
 said Evelyn. . 
 
 "What are you talking about, you little goose?" 
 
 "Father said Aimt Matilda was as blue as indigo, 
 and that it would make it very hard for us." 
 
 Jim threw back his head and chuckled. "Well, you 
 do beat the Dutch," he said. 
 
 "We'll have to be very, very good to her," said 
 Evelyn. 
 
 "Their heads were green and their hands were blue, 
 and they went to sea in a sieve," quoted Jim. "Look 
 out, Ewy, don't put any more blocks on that tower; 
 it'll tumble down if you do." 
 
 Evelyn continued to put blocks on, as if she had not 
 heard. ••' 
 
 ''Are you deaf?" asked her brother. 
 
THE LETTER 7 
 
 "Sometimes I am," said Evelyn sweetly. "When 
 I want to put on blocks, I want to put on blocks." 
 
 "There, what did I tell you? Now see what you've 
 done!" 
 
 Evelyn looked at the wrecked tower with con- 
 cern. "I did n't think it would tumble down, and 
 it hasn't all tumbled down, and we'll build it up 
 again." 
 
 "You are a perfectly aggravating child, and you 
 always think you know best, and you never get any- 
 thing right." 
 
 "If I were indigo blue should you hate me?" Eve- 
 lyn asked, imexpectedly. 
 
 "I hate you now." 
 
 "Oh, you don't hate me," said Evelyn, looking at 
 him reproachfully with her brown eyes. 
 
 "Of course I don't hate you. But you are some- 
 times enough to try the patience of Job." 
 
 "Who was Job?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Confound it! I don't know who Job was. What 
 questions you do ask! I think he was a Bible chap. 
 Anyway, it's an expression father uses a lot." 
 
 "I'm going to build a house of my own this time," 
 said Evelyn. "I can build it any way I like, then. 
 I'm going to make a house big enough for my chil- 
 dren and me to hve in. There'll be one room for Sarah 
 and Matilda and me, and another for the Blue Aunt 
 when she comes, and we won't let you come into it at 
 aU." 
 
8 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "I don't want to come into your old house, and I 
 think your daughter Sarah is a perfect fright. Ma- 
 tilda is very sweet with her Ught, fluflfy hair, but you 'd 
 better keep her away from the Blue Aunt or she may 
 catch the disease." 
 
II 
 
 The Blue Aunt Comes 
 
 IT was some weeks later, and as it had been a back- 
 ward spring, everything was coming out with a 
 rush. The bush of purple lilacs was in blossom by the 
 kitchen window, and the snowballs looked white and 
 fluffy on what the children called the snowball tree, 
 while the scarlet tuKps made the edge of the garden 
 paths gay, and the yellow forsythia was like a brilliant 
 patch of sunshine in front of the house; it seemed as 
 if all the flowers were blossoming together, as if to 
 welcome the coming of the Blue Aunt. 
 
 The children had gone out to play in the yard, so as 
 to be able to catch the first sight of her when she 
 came. Their father had gone to Boston to meet her. 
 Their mother sat in the parlor with her knitting. She 
 was knitting a sweater for the Navy League. It was 
 of an ugly shade of gray, and she had been ill so much 
 that she had not got on with it very fast. She had 
 nearly got to the neck, and how she was going to 
 make the hole she did not know, and just now there 
 was no one at hand to advise and she had lost the 
 directions. She would have liked much better to go 
 on with her bright-colored embroidery, but now the 
 country was at war she wanted to do her bit. 
 
10 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Even Jim had begun to knit a washcloth. It had 
 strange little holes in it every now and then, but he 
 was sure a soldier would not mind that. 
 
 Mrs. West glanced at the clock and began to feel 
 very nervous. She dropped a stitch in the middle of 
 the row, off the end of her slippery yellow needle, and 
 it ran down two or three rows. 
 
 "I do hope she won't object to children," she 
 thought. "Mine are sometimes so noisy and quar- 
 relsome, and yet they are such dears, I could n't 
 bear it if she were always hushing them up." 
 
 "Here they come!" said Jim to Evelyn. "Oh, 
 dear, I thought that was the motor from the station." 
 
 Mrs. West in her confusion had dropped some more 
 stitches. She hastily pulled the needle out and folded 
 up the knitting. She could pick up the stitches later. 
 She counted them first to make sure they were all 
 right. There were eighty-three of them, and there 
 should have been only eighty. How did she get those 
 extra three stitches? 
 
 Here Aunt Matilda was at last; there was no mis- 
 take this time, for the motor was coming up to the 
 front gate. The _,children were stationed one behind 
 each gate-post, so as to get a good look at her before 
 she saw them. She sprang lightly out of the automo- 
 bile before their father coidd help her, and Evelyn 
 saw that she was all in black. Her shoes were black 
 and comfortable-looking rather than pretty, this 
 was what Evelyn saw first, and her stockings were 
 
THE BLUE AUNT COMES 11 
 
 black and showed below her short skirt. It was 
 black, too, and so was her silk blouse and the jacket 
 she carried over her arm. Her hat was black and so 
 was the veil tied around it, and the only thing that 
 was not black was the wide white sailor collar on her 
 blouse. Then Evelyn gathered courage to look at 
 her face. There was nothing blue about it except her 
 eyes, and these were the very bluest eyes Evelyn had 
 ever seen. They were dark blue, not indigo blue she 
 was sure, for they were a lovely color. Her lashes 
 were long and nearly black, and so was her hair that 
 showed in a coil below her hat. 
 
 "There's Sadie at the window," said Matilda. 
 "But where are the children?" 
 
 "Come, Jim, and shake hands with your Aunt 
 Matilda," said his father. 
 
 Jim scowled and put his hands behind his back. 
 He had a resentful feeling when he found his aunt 
 was so different from what he had expected. It 
 seemed as if his father somehow had n't played fair. 
 
 Evelyn came out from behind the post. 
 
 "This is Evelyn, isn't it?" said her Aunt Matilda. 
 
 She did not try to kiss the little girl or even to 
 shake hands with her, and apparently she did not see 
 Jim. This made him dislike her all the more. He 
 would have hated it if she had spoken to him, but 
 he hated it still more when she did not speak to him. 
 
 A minute later Matilda was sitting in the parlor 
 by Sadie, talking about her journey from the South. 
 
12 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "It was so strange to see all the bridges guarded 
 by soldiers," she said. "And most of the men at 
 the University are drilling." 
 
 Jim longed to ask a question at this point, but de- 
 cided not to give her this satisfaction. She was so 
 beautiful and so young it made him angry. No one 
 had a right to be as beautiful as his mother. 
 
 "Is that a sweater?" Matilda asked, as she looked 
 at Mrs. West's knitting on the tabl6. 
 
 "It's a sweater for a sailor," said Evelyn proudly. 
 "Mother makes such beautiful things, and Jim is 
 knitting a wash-rag, and it's got holes in it that 
 ought n't to be there, but Jim says — " 
 
 "Oh shut up!" said Jim, growing very red. 
 
 "I'm making a sweater too," said Matilda. 
 
 "For the army or the navy?" asked Mrs. West. 
 
 "For the army." 
 
 "That is a much prettier color." 
 
 Jim could no longer bear being left out of the con- 
 versation. "I wish I was big enough to go and fight," 
 he said. 
 
 "In the army or navy?" his aunt asked, 
 
 "Army, of course." 
 
 "Artillery, or cavalry, or infantry?" 
 
 " Cavalry, of course, because of the horses." 
 
 "I hope by the time you grow up, dear, there will 
 be no such thing as war on this earth," said his aunt. 
 
 She had called him "dear," and he had a pleasant 
 warm feeling down the back of his spine. He liked 
 
THE BLUE AUNT COMES 13 
 
 her to call him "dear." After all, it would not be so 
 bad to have two handsome people in the house. She 
 looked even younger than his mother, and he had 
 thought she was going to be old. Matilda sounded 
 like an old name. 
 
 "I don't like your name at all," Jim said to her. 
 
 "I am glad you don't, for I don't either, and I 
 should hardly believe you if you said you did. You 
 can call me 'Aunt Hilda' if you like, as the little Gays 
 do." 
 
 "Who are the little Gays?" asked Evelyn, who al- 
 ways liked to have things explained as she went along. 
 
 "They are the children of my best friend." 
 
 "How many are there?" 
 
 "Four." 
 
 "What are their names?" 
 
 "Patience and Ralph and EHzabeth and Rodman. 
 The girls are called Patty and Lily." 
 
 "How old are they?" 
 
 "My dear child, you've asked questions enough," 
 said Mrs. West. "I am sure your aunt wants to rest 
 after her journey. I'll take you upstairs — Hilda." 
 She hesitated over the name. "May I call you Hilda? " 
 she asked. "It sounds so much more friendly than 
 Matilda, and Matilda is the name of James's aimt. 
 I like to keep a separate name for each person." 
 
 "My youngest doll is named Matilda," said Eve- 
 lyn. 
 
 "I should love to have you call me Hilda." And 
 
14 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 they smiled at each other as people do when they 
 are sure they are going to be good friends. Mrs. West 
 took Hilda up into a pleasant room that had a wide 
 window-seat in front of two windows that overlooked 
 the garden. There was a wistaria vine that climbed 
 around the outside of the window, and great bimches 
 of its lilac blossoms hung down almost like a curtain. 
 
 "How old are the little Gays?" persisted Evelyn, 
 who had followed them into the room. 
 
 "Never mind about the little Gays. Rim down- 
 stairs and let us have a little peace." 
 
 "I'd rather stay here." 
 
 "Your mother has told you to run away," said the 
 Blue Aunt. "I like little girls who mind their mothers, 
 but I am not sure I shall like little girls who don't. 
 I'll call you by and by, for there is something in my 
 trunk I want to show you." 
 
 Evelyn slowly made her way to the door. 
 
 "Do the Uttle Gays always mind their mother?" 
 she asked, as she turned the handle of the door. 
 
 "I'll answer that question when I see you next," 
 said the Blue Aunt. 
 
 "I hope you'll be comfortable," said Mrs. West. 
 "I am sorry to say I am under the doctor's orders, 
 and I have to rest for two hours every afternoon." 
 
 "That is all right. I shall be glad to rest, and I can 
 get my trunks impacked." 
 
 "Dear me, that tiresome expressman did not im- 
 strap your trunks." Mrs. West leaned over and tried 
 
THE BLUE AUNT COMES 15 
 
 to unstrap the smaller one. "I can't do it. I'll call 
 Catherine; she is so strong." 
 
 Hilda went over to the trunks and after pulling and 
 tugging she undid first one strap and then the other. 
 
 "How strong you are ! " said Mrs. West, with a little 
 sigh. 
 
 Downstairs Evelyn was saying to Jim: "I don't 
 see why father said she was blue. There's nothing 
 blue about her but her eyes." 
 
 "He meant she was going to be blue in her mind. 
 It's just an expression," he said loftily. 
 
 "You might have told me that before." 
 
 "Gee! If I spent all my time telling you the things 
 you don't know, I 'd never have time for anything else. 
 When you are my age and know how to read — " 
 
 "You might teach me to read." 
 
 " Father and mother don't believe in kids learn- 
 ing young. They say it ruins the eyes." 
 
 Jim thought there was no little girl in the whole 
 world so bright and charming as his small sister, but 
 he would on no accoimt give her the satisfaction of 
 telUng her so. 
 
 Evelyn soon got interested in building block houses 
 with Jim, and for an hour she forgot all about the 
 Blue Aunt; but when his friend, Charley Norcross, 
 called for Jim to go out and play, she wondered if 
 Aunt Hilda had finished her unpacking. She liked to 
 see people impack. Almost every one had such inter- 
 esting things in trunks. 
 
16 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Aunt Hilda had taken some of her black frocks out 
 of her trunk and had piled them on the window-seat. 
 She had felt very brave all through her journey, and 
 she knew she was going to be happy in her brother's 
 house during her visit, but the sight of her black 
 frocks brought back her recent loss, and she felt 
 very much alone in this house where everybody was 
 going on just as if she were not there. 
 
 She heard the knob turn softly and a little voice 
 called out, "Please, Aunt Hilda, can I come in and 
 see you unpack? " 
 
 "Come in, dear," said Aunt Hilda, hastily brush- 
 ing aside her tears. 
 
 "How old are the little Gays?" Evelyn asked, and 
 then she saw that her aunt had been crying. 
 
 She ran across the room and put a soft httle arm 
 around Aunt Hilda's neck. She felt very sorry for 
 her poor Blue Aunt. And then a strange thing hap- 
 pened. Aunt Hilda stroked her yellow hair, and said, 
 just as her father had done, " You are my httle com- 
 fort." 
 
 "Now we'll decide on which pegs to put my 
 things," said her Aunt Hilda, a Httle later, as she 
 opened the closet door. "Oh, what nice hangers! 
 You can bring me that blouse." 
 
 It was soft and fluffy with pleatings on it, and 
 Evelyn thought it was very pretty, although it was 
 black. All the frocks were black, but there was a blue 
 dressing-gown which was so dainty and pretty that 
 
THE BLUE AUNT COMES 17 
 
 Evelyn admired it very much. She thought it just 
 the thing for a Blue Aunt to wear. She liked her 
 aunt's soft white shirt-waists and the snowy pile of 
 underwear that she let her arrange as she pleased in 
 the bureau drawers. Her aunt let her open all the 
 interesting boxes that contained gloves and handker- 
 chiefs and belts, and there was one especial box that 
 was Evelyn's delight, for it had silver breast-pins in 
 it, and a pearl pin and a gold pin and a silver chain. 
 
 When the smaller trunk was all impacked, her 
 aunt said, "You have been a great help to me, and 
 now we '11 take some things out of the other trunk that 
 I am going to give you for yourself." 
 
 "These things are not for you," said Aunt Hilda. 
 And she took out a blanket with gay Roman stripes, 
 and a soft pillow covered with bright cretonne. 
 When her aunt had put them on the window-seat 
 they made it look very cozy. 
 
 "Is that box for me.?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Yes; it is heavy. Wait imtil I lift it out for you." 
 
 Her aunt took the cover off the box, and Evelyn 
 saw there was something inside that was done up 
 very carefully with some underclothes stuffed in to 
 make it firm. She took these out, and underneath 
 was a parcel carefully done up in tissue paper. 
 
 "It's a doll! It's the shape and size of a doll!" 
 Evelyn cried. 
 
 She began skipping about the room at such a rate 
 that her aunt said, — 
 
18 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "Be careful that you don't drop her." 
 
 Evelyn sat down on the floor and began to take 
 off the wrappings. 
 
 " It is a doll ! " she cried in delight. "And she 's got 
 brown hair! I never had a brown-haired child. She's 
 asleep, poor dear; it's too bad to wake her up, but 
 I must find out what color her eyes are. Brown! 
 How wonderful ! I hoped they would be, but I never 
 had a doll with brown eyes. She's as pretty as 
 Nancy's Marion. What is her name, Aunt Hilda?" 
 
 "I think we'll call her Virginia, for the State where 
 I've been so happy." 
 
 "Virginia is a pretty name. It's prettier for a 
 doll than Massachusetts would be; don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 "She has n't any dresses, poor thing, but the one 
 she has on, because I did not have time to make them 
 for her, but you see she has a Uttle bureau all ready 
 for the clothes when I can make them. I used to have 
 that mahogany bureau when I was a little girl." 
 
 Evelyn had never seen such a dear little bureau. 
 It had brass handles just like the big ones, and there 
 were three long drawers in it with two small ones on 
 the top. The doll was dressed in a brown skirt and 
 coat, and she had a white sailor collar on the coat. 
 She wore a white silk shirt-waist and a tiny string tie 
 of brown velvet. Her hat was white straw with a 
 white scarf around it. 
 
 "Dear Virgmia," cried the little girl, "I love you 
 
THE BLUE AUNT COMES 19 
 
 just as much as I love any of my children, although 
 I have had you such a Uttle while." 
 
 "Mothers should always love all their children 
 alike," said her aunt. * ' 
 
 There was also a mahogany bedstead, which had 
 belonged to Aunt Hilda when she was a little girl, 
 and it had sheets and pillows and pillow-cases and a 
 patchwork quilt that the Blue Aunt had made herself 
 when she was a child; but almost the best of all, 
 there was a wing chair made on the same model as 
 the large one that was in the nursery at Nancy's 
 house. The large one had a white slip cover over 
 it, and the small one was covered with chintz with 
 a pattern of roses and green leaves. When Virginia 
 West was seated in the small wing chair she looked 
 as happy as it was possible for a brown-haired, 
 brown-eyed doll to look. 
 
 "I must have you meet your sisters," said Evelyn. 
 She ran off and presently came back with Sarah and 
 Matilda. 
 
 Sarah was a rag doll that Evelyn's mother had 
 given her when she was only a baby girl, but Matilda 
 was as pretty as Virginia in a different way. She had 
 blue eyes and golden hair, and had been given Eve- 
 lyn by her father's Aunt Matilda, "Aunt Mattie," 
 as they all called her. By squeezing them together 
 Evelyn was able to put both Matilda and Virginia 
 into the wing chair. 
 
 Evelyn's mother always came to put her to bed 
 
20 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 and to hear her say her prayers, except once in a 
 
 great while when she was feeling too ill, and at these 
 
 times it was Ann who came. 
 To-night it was Evelyn's mother, and as she tucked 
 
 her up Evelyn said, "Mother, have n't we had a 
 
 happy day?" 
 
 "Yes, dear. We are all going to love Aunt Hilda." 
 "Mother, will you ask her if she'U come and say 
 
 good-night to me?" 
 
 "I don't want to interrupt her, dear. She's having 
 
 such a good talk with your father." 
 
 "But there's a question I must ask her." 
 
 "It will keep until the morning." 
 
 "But I can't go to sleep imtil I know." 
 
 "What is it? If it is very important I can ask her 
 
 and come back and tell you." 
 
 "It is very important. I must find out how old the 
 
 little Gays are.", 
 
Ill 
 
 Nancy Merrifield and the Stranger 
 
 EVELYN was very anxious the next morning to 
 go to see Nancy Merrifield, her best friend. 
 She wanted to show Virginia to her, and to tell her 
 all about her new aunt; but Nancy had been having 
 a cold for some days, and when Nancy had even a 
 Uttle cold her mother always put her to bed, for 
 Nancy was all the child she had, so she was anxious 
 about her whenever anything was the matter with 
 her. Evelyn had run down to Nancy's house every 
 morning to see how she was, and every morning she 
 had been disappointed, but to-day Mrs. Merrifield 
 telephoned soon after breakfast to say that Nancy 
 was well enough to see her. 
 
 Evelyn put on Virginia's hat and coat and started 
 down the road very cheerfully. Hector, the gentle 
 family dog, wanted to go with her. He wanted to 
 go so very much that it was hard to refuse him, but 
 there were reasons why it was best not; for although 
 Hector was so gentle he never hurt any animal un- 
 less he was first attacked, unfortunately Ginger, the 
 Merrifields' yellow cat, did not know this, and he 
 always hunched up his back and spit at poor Hector, 
 and then he scratched him with his sharp claws. It 
 
22 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 seemed odd, but Mrs. Merrifidd felt it was Hec- 
 tor's fault, and she told Evelyn not to bring him any 
 more. 
 
 Evelyn caressed the shaggy brown coat of her 
 favorite. 
 
 "Hector, it's too bad. Ginger is a darling, and so 
 are you; I don't see why he won't let you alone." 
 
 Mrs. Merrifield opened the door for Evelyn, She 
 was not pretty like her own darling mother, and she 
 always had a worried look. Evelyn was very fond of 
 her, however, in spite of the misunderstanding about 
 Hector. 
 
 ! "Good-morning, Evelyn," said Mrs. Merrifield, 
 and she puckered up her forehead and looked anx- 
 iously down the road to see if Hector were coming. 
 "Did you bring the dog.?" she asked. 
 
 Evelyn did not like her not calling him by his name. 
 It seemed as impolite as if she had said, "Did you 
 bring the woman?" when she meant Evelyn's mother. 
 
 "I did n't bring him. You told me not to." 
 
 Mrs. Merrifield flung up her hands in a way she 
 had of doing at moments, and said, "You look as if 
 you had always been a Uttle saint and never disobeyed 
 in your life." 
 
 i' "He teased so hard the last time," said Evelyn, 
 "and I thought Ginger wouJd be in the kitchen. And 
 it was n't Hector's fault, truly it was n't," she said 
 earnestly. 
 
 "We won't go into that again," said Mrs. Merri- 
 
NANCY MERRIFIELD AND THE STRANGER 23 
 
 field. "Is n't that a new doll?" she asked as she 
 caught sight of Virginia, 
 
 "Yes, it's my oldest child, Virginia. She's been at 
 boarding-school in the South." 
 
 "Has she?" said Mrs. Merrifield. "She looks as 
 if the climate had agreed with her. I suppose she 
 traveled with your aimt." 
 
 "Yes, she did, and she brought her bureau and a 
 wing chair and a bed and bedclothes with her." 
 
 "Did she, indeed? What a thoughtful child!" 
 
 Mrs. Merrifield laughed and Evelyn laughed, and 
 she thought how kind Mrs. Merrifield looked when 
 she laughed. 
 
 "Do come upstairs," called a plaintive little voice. 
 
 "Nancy is over her cold, you need n't be afraid of 
 catching it. She came downstairs to breakfast this 
 morning, but I think you children had better play in 
 the nursery. If you are downstairs you might forget 
 and go outdoors." 
 
 Nancy was sitting in the big wing chair that was 
 drawn up before the fire. There was a table full of 
 playthings beside her. Evelyn liked to play with 
 Nancy, because she alwaj^ let her have all the best of 
 the playthings and. choose the games; and Mrs. West 
 Uked to have Evelyn play with Nancy, because 
 Nancy was such a gentle, obedient little girl; and 
 Mrs. Merrifield liked to have Nancy play with 
 Evelyn, because it kept her from being selfish, as an 
 only child is apt to be; and Nancy liked to play with 
 
24 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Evelyn, because she was so spirited and dear; so 
 every one was satisfied. 
 
 Nancy looked pale and there were dark lines under 
 her gray eyes. She was reading a book. Although 
 she was only eight months older than Evelyn she 
 could read almost as well as a grown person. 
 
 "What a beautiful doll!" said Nancy. 
 
 "Yes, she's a present from my aunt. And she's 
 such a darling aunt! Her name is Virginia, — my 
 child's name, I mean, — and I'll let you play with 
 her, Nancy. And I want you to see Aunt Hilda." 
 
 "We've got a stranger at om- house, too," said 
 Nancy. "He came yesterday." 
 
 "Is he your uncle?" 
 
 Nancy threw back her head and laughed. "No, I 
 don't know very much about him, but I know he is n't 
 my uncle. We'll play twenty questions about him." 
 
 "Did he come a long way?" asked Evelyn. 
 
 "He could n't have come very far, for he's an 
 invalid. When Tim came to bring up the coal he 
 said, 'There's a stranger at the back door with a 
 bum leg.'" 
 
 "Poor man, he's a kind of a tramp, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, he's a kind of a tramp," said Nancy, and 
 again she crinkled up her eyes and laughed. "Guess 
 what sort of clothes he wears," she said. 
 
 "Shabby old ones, I s'pose. Perhaps father has 
 some that would fit him." 
 
 At this Nancy laughed hysterically. "His own 
 
NANCY MERRIFIELD AND THE STRANGER 25 
 
 clothes fit him all right," she said. "Only I should 
 think they might be a little warm for this time of 
 year. He has a fur overcoat and fur trousers." 
 
 "Fiu* trousers! I never heard of such a thing." 
 And then Evelyn began to laugh. "He's some sort 
 of an animal," she said. 
 
 "He's a kitten," Nancy said. "The teentiest, 
 tiniest kitten, hardly big enough to go out alone, and 
 his leg is broken. Ginger is very fierce with him, 
 so mother and father say we can't keep him, but, 
 oh, I wish we could, for he is so cunning! Mother 
 says he's got to be disposed of. She says she's 
 no doubt he's in pain, but he does n't look as if he 
 were, and he keeps licking his leg." 
 
 "I'll go down and get him and we'll have him up 
 here to play with." 
 
 "I'm afraid mother would n't like it," said Nancy 
 doubtfully. "We don't know where he came from, 
 and he might have germs." 
 , Germs were the bane of poor Nancy's life. 
 
 "I'm going down to get him," said Evelyn, with 
 the decision that was such a comfort to her friend. 
 "You need n't touch him. You can play with Vir- 
 ginia and I'll play with him." 
 
 She came back after a time with the kitten curled 
 up in her arms. It was a tiny tiger kitten with beauti- 
 ful brown and black stripes. 
 
 "Did you ask mother if you might bring him up?" 
 said Nancy. 
 
26 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "She was busy making Red Cross bandages, and 
 I thought I would n't interrupt her; so I just found 
 him and took him. He was in the cunningest box all 
 full of hay. What's his name?" 
 
 "I don't know. Tim found him." 
 
 "Let's call him Tim," said Evelyn. 
 
 The children had a very happy morning, for Nancy 
 played with Virginia to her heart's content, and 
 Evelyn played with Tim. They played that he was 
 a tiger in a jungle, who was going to kill Virginia, 
 only he broke his leg just in time for her to escape; 
 and they played he was a great hunter who lived 
 where it was so cold he had to wear fur all the year; 
 but best of all they played he was just what he was, 
 a tiny kitten looking for a home. 
 
 "I'm going to take him home with me," said 
 Evelyn, when it was time for her to go. 
 
 "But your father does n't like cats," Nancy objected. 
 
 "This is a kitten." 
 
 "But it will grow into a cat," said conscientious 
 Nancy. 
 
 "He's got to like it," said Evelyn, "because I am 
 going to keep it." 
 
 "Hector does n't like cats," said Nancy. 
 
 "Hector likes cats. It 's cats that don't like Hector, 
 and this is a kitten. I can't take them both home at 
 once," said Evelyn, as Tim scratched her through 
 her frock, "so I'll have to leave Virginia with you 
 and come back for her this afternoon." 
 
NANCY MERRIFIELD AND THE STRANGER 27 
 
 The first person Evelyn met as she came near the 
 house was her brother Jim. He and Charley Norcross 
 were playing with some beautiful marbles that the 
 Blue Aunt had given him. 
 
 "What on earth have you got there?" asked 
 Jim. 
 
 "I should think you could see what I've got. 
 Don't touch it; the poor dear has broken its paw." 
 
 "What on earth are you bringing him home for 
 when you know how father feels about cats?" 
 
 "This is a kitten." 
 
 "I can see it's a kitten. I'm not blind." 
 
 "But you asked me what it was," Evelyn said in 
 her gentlest tones. 
 
 "Gee! If you don't beat the Dutch!" 
 
 Evelyn passed him and went around to the back 
 door. She knew Catherine had a soft spot in her heart 
 for all animals. Unluckily Catherine was in the laun- 
 dry and Ann was in the kitchen. 
 
 "For goodness sake, don't bring that kitten in 
 here!" said Ann. "You know how your father feels 
 about cats. Take him back where you found him," 
 she commanded. 
 
 "He's broken his leg," said Evelyn. 
 
 "Poor Uttle pussy," said Ann unexpectedly. "Put 
 him down. I'll give him some milk before we send 
 him off." 
 
 The kitten lapped the milk as if he were very 
 hungry. 
 
28 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Hector was lying on the kitchen floor. He came 
 over and sniffed at the kitten, but did not touch it. 
 
 "They are going to be friends," said Evelyn. "It 
 won't be so lonely for poor Hector. I'm going to 
 show the kitten to mother and Aunt Hilda." 
 
 "You'd better wait till after dinner," Ann advised. 
 
 "No, I want to show it to them right off now." 
 
 Her mother and her aunt were sitting cozily to- 
 gether in Aunt Hilda's pleasant room. Her mother 
 was lying on the window-seat with Aunt Hilda's 
 cushion behind her and the pretty blanket over her, 
 and Aunt Hilda was making the place for the neck 
 in her mother's sweater. 
 
 "Did you have a happy morning, dear?" asked her 
 mother. 
 
 "Yes, mother, a very happy morning, and see this 
 darling kitten Nancy gave me." 
 
 "A darling kitten! How did Nancy have a kitten 
 to give you.'*" 
 
 "She did n't exactly give it to me, only they could 
 n't keep it, so I just took it home," 
 
 "Oh, what a pretty kitteni " said Aunt Hilda. 
 "That is all this house needs to make me feel com- 
 pletely at home." 
 
 "James does n't like cats," Mrs. West said. "He 
 thinks them treacherous, and he says they catch 
 birds. He has never wanted a cat." 
 
 "Has n't he? Poor James! He is getting a great 
 deal of discipline." 
 
NANCY MERRIFIELD AND THE STRANGER 29 
 
 When Evelyn first showed the kitten to her father 
 she said: "Father, isn't this a pretty kitten? His 
 name is Tim, and he and Hector are such good 
 friends. It was lonely for poor Hector without any 
 other animal." 
 
 "A kitten!" cried Mr. West. "We don't want a 
 kitten. Where on earth did you get it.'' " 
 
 Evelyn gave a long explanation. 
 
 "Father, it is such a lovely kitten," she ended, 
 "and I want it so much!" 
 
 "It will catch birds and squirrels." 
 
 "It can't, father, because of its broken leg." 
 
 "Its paw will probably get weU." 
 
 "See what beautiful tiger stripes he has, father, 
 and look at his dear Kttle black and brown paws." 
 
 The kitten looked at Mr. West with his bright eyes. 
 He was a friendly pussy who Uked every one. And 
 then to Evelyn's surprise the kitten put out his right 
 paw, the one that was not hiu-t, to give to Mr. West. 
 
 "Oh, father!" Evelyn cried in deUght, "he wants 
 to shake hands with you ! " 
 
 Mr. West gravely shook the kitten's paw. "How 
 do you do, sir.? I hope you've had a good dinner. 
 I'll try to find a good home for you, but not here." 
 
 "Oh, father, he's got the best home he could have, 
 and he and I love each other so ! How would you like 
 it, father, if you and I had just begun to love each 
 other and a big giant came along and told you, you 
 must get out and find another home? " 
 
so THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "I should n't like it at all, Evelyn, but you see I 
 don't catch birds and squirrels." 
 
 Evelyn put the kitten's face up close against hers, 
 and her yellow hair was close to his black and brown 
 fur. "Father, it would be much harder for you if you 
 were a small furry person, instead of a big man, and 
 if you had broken your paw. Look at the poor little 
 paw. He could n't catch birds and squirrels any more 
 than you can." 
 
 Once more the friendly pussy put out his paw to 
 Mr. West. He stroked the kitten's soft back, and 
 pussy in an ecstasy of delight scrambled out of Eve- 
 lyn's arms, and running along Mr. West's arm as if it 
 were the branch of a tree climbed up on his shoulder. 
 Tim purred as loudly as if he were a full-grown cat. j 
 
 "Father, he loves you!" cried Evelyn. ' 
 
 "I can see," said Mr. West, "that it would be a 
 hardship to put a poor little creatiu-e like this out into 
 the cold world; but just as soon as he's well enough 
 and old enough to catch birds he'll have to go. Yes, 
 you are a pretty kitten," — for pussy was rubbing his 
 furry head against Mr. West's face. "I think Tim is 
 rather a foolish name. I shall call you Timothy, and, 
 Timothy, you are welcome to the hospitality of my 
 house imtil your broken leg gfcts well." 
 
IV 
 
 The Plaid Dress 
 
 AUNT MATTIE had come down from the farm 
 to do some shopping for the household up there. 
 Aunt Mattie was the aunt of Evelyn's father. Her 
 full name was Matilda, and she was the person for 
 whom both Aunt Hilda and Matilda, the doU, were 
 named, for last Christmas she had given Matilda to 
 Evelyn. 
 
 It was Aunt Mattie and her sister Aunt Charlotte 
 with whom Evelyn's father spent all his vacations 
 after his mother married again and went abroad for 
 some years. Evelyn's father had always felt that the 
 house of Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Mattie was home. 
 
 Aunt Charlotte was a gentle, motherly soul, and 
 when her son Henry and his wife died she took his 
 children back to the farm where her sister Mattie had 
 always spent her summers, and now they lived there 
 all the year round. Aunt Mattie was very eflBcient. 
 She could do aU sorts of useful things, from every 
 kind of cooking and prfeserviug and sewing to all sorts 
 of housework and knitting. 
 
 It was as good for the house to have a visit from 
 Aunt Mattie as to have a spring cleaning, and as good 
 for the people in the house as to take a spring tonic. 
 
32 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Aunt Mattie always knew the best way of doing 
 everything, and she did not like new ways. She was 
 sure she knew better about all sorts of things than her 
 nephew's wife did, but there was one thing she felt 
 Sadie knew more about and that was children's 
 clothes. "Not that it matters very much," she said 
 to Mrs. West, "for we live so out of the world, but 
 Evelyn has such pretty clothes, and I should like the 
 benefit of your taste." 
 
 So Evelyn's mother and Aunt Mattie went shop- 
 ping together one morning. 
 
 Mrs. West always foimd it hard to go shopping 
 with Aunt Mattie, for they never liked the same 
 things, and when Aimt Mattie said, "Oh, what a 
 pretty gingham; don't you think that is a beauty?" 
 it seemed rude to say, "No, I don't," over and over 
 again. She was a very polite person, and she was 
 afraid of hurting Aunt Mattie's feelings, but she 
 hated still more to think of her Uttle cousins as 
 dressed in ugly clothes. 
 
 Aunt Mattie was looking for plaid ginghams of 
 bright colors to please the children, and well covered 
 so they would not show the dirt, and Mrs. West 
 thought all the plaids were hideous. She finally per- 
 suaded her to get some plain blue chambray for one 
 child and pink for the other. 
 
 "They will not be at all useful," said Aunt Mattie 
 doubtfully. 
 
 "Nothing is really serviceable, unless you are will- 
 
THE PLAID DRESS 33 
 
 ing to put the children into rompers, and of course 
 Lottie is too old for that." 
 
 "Indeed, no nieces of mine ever go into trousers 
 like boys," said Aimt Mattie firmly. "I may be mid- 
 Victorian, as James says, but at least Lottie and Prue 
 will never be taken for boys. Oh, there is a beautiful 
 plaid over there. I always did like a mixture of colors. 
 How much is that a yard?" 
 
 Fortimately it was too high, and Mrs. West sug- 
 gested that perhaps they could find something ready- 
 made for Lottie and Prue. 
 
 The ready-made frocks for children were many of 
 them cheap and most of them pretty; and Mrs. West 
 felt they could not go far wrong. They had bought 
 attractive ones for both Lottie and Prue, and were 
 leaving the store, when Aimt Mattie saw some plaid 
 dresses that were just what she had been looking for. 
 
 "What beauties, and how cheap!" she said. "How 
 I wish I had seen these before! Do you suppose they 
 would mind exchanging the other dresses for these.'*" 
 
 "I would not give them that trouble," said Mrs. 
 West, "and the others are so pretty." 
 
 "This is my ideal of what a dress should be for a 
 young child," said Aunt Mattie, as she fingered the 
 frock. "It is well covered and yet gay. Don't you 
 think it is a beauty? " 
 
 "It is certainly well covered and gay, and would be 
 most useful," said Mrs. West heartily. 
 
 She was tired of criticizing, and now the frocks 
 
34 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 were all bought, this much praise could do no harm. 
 Besides, it was the truth. Now, she had been so hard 
 to please all the morning that Aunt Mattie was de- 
 lighted to find something she liked, for she meant to 
 give Evelyn a present; so when Mrs. West went 
 across to another part of the store to buy games to 
 send up to the children. Aunt Mattie bought the 
 plaid frock. She meant it for a great surprise for 
 Sadie and her Uttle girl. And she had her wish. It 
 was a great surprise. She saved it to give as a present 
 the night before she went home. -^ 
 
 "Children, I am going away so early to-morrow 
 morning that I'll give you your presents to-night," 
 said Aimt Mattie. "I'll give Jim his first because he 
 is the oldest." 
 
 Jim's present was a sailor suit just like the one she 
 had bought for his Cousin Harry, and as Mrs. West 
 had chosen the one for Harry, it was all a boy could 
 wish it to be. 
 
 "Thank you very much. Aunt Mattie. I like it. 
 It's a corker." 
 
 "I know 'a corker' is all right," said Aunt Mattie, 
 "but it does sound terrible. Here, Evelyn, I know it 
 is your bedtime, but I want you to have your present 
 first." 
 
 Evelyn eagerly took the dress out of its box. Her 
 face fell when she saw it, for she did not like plaid 
 frocks. She said nothing. 
 
 "Evelyn," said Mrs. West, trying to hide her own 
 
THE PLAID DRESS 35 
 
 disappointment, "thank Aunt Mattie for giving you 
 such a nice present." 
 
 Evelyn was still silent. 
 
 "Darling child," her mother persisted, "kiss Aunt 
 Mattie good-night, for it is your bedtime, and say 
 good-bye to her, for she is going home before you'll 
 be up in the morning; and thank her for the nice 
 dress." 
 
 "It is not a nice dress," said Evelyn. "I hate it." 
 
 "My dear child, you must not be so rude to Aunt 
 Mattie. I can't let you go to bed until you have told 
 her you are sorry you spoke so." 
 
 "I 'm not sorry," said Evelyn. "I '11 sit up all night 
 if I have to, but I 'm not sorry." 
 
 "It will be a most useful frock. Aunt Mattie," Mrs. 
 West said soothingly; "it is just a matter of taste." 
 
 "Prue is always crazy over plaids. Evelyn will like 
 it when she begins to wear it," said Aunt Mattie. 
 
 "I am not going to wear it, for I hate it. You can 
 take it to Prue." 
 
 "My dear child," said her mother helplessly. "I 
 can't think why you are so naughty. Kiss Aunt 
 Mattie and tell her you are sorry you spoke so." 
 
 "I'll sit up all night if I have to, but I'm not 
 sorry." 
 
 "What should you do to that child if she were 
 yours?" Mrs. West asked Aunt HUda. 
 
 But before Aunt Hilda could reply. Aunt Mattie 
 said, "If she were mine, I should use the mid-Victo- 
 
36 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 nan method of punishment and give her a good 
 spanking." 
 
 Evelyn looked around the room at all the people. 
 Nobody seemed to like her very much; even her dear 
 Aimt Hilda seemed very grave. Her father was the 
 most friendly of all. She went over to him and 
 cUmbed up into his lap. 
 
 "No wonder she is such a willful child when you 
 spoil her so, James," said Aunt Mattie. 
 
 "My Httle pigeon," said her father. "Run and tell 
 Aunt Mattie you are sorry you were such a naughty 
 girl." 
 
 "But, father," she pleaded, "I am not sorry; it 
 would be a lie." 
 
 She felt her father could understand. 
 
 "Put her down, James," said her mother. "She 
 has been a naughty little girl and she does not deserve 
 to sit in your lap. She can sit in the comer in her own 
 little chair and not speak until she is ready to say she 
 is sorry." 
 
 They all went on with their evening occupations 
 just as if she were not in the room. Nobody looked 
 at her or spoke to her. 
 
 After a time her mother said, "Jim, it is yoiu* bed- 
 time," and as if to show what a good boy he was he 
 went over to bid Atmt Mattie good-bye and let her 
 kiss him. This was a great deal for Jim to do, for he 
 did not like to be kissed. But he felt sorry for Aunt 
 Mattie. He stopped when he came to the comer 
 
THE PLAID DRESS 37 
 
 where Evelyn was sitting. She was trying very hard 
 to keep her eyes open. Poor Jim had a fear that his 
 little sister would sit up all night. He stooped and 
 whispered to Evelyn, "Tell her you are sorry, there's 
 a good kid," he advised. "She's an old lady and she 
 meant to be so kind. You can do it in three words, 
 'I am sorry.'" 
 
 "But I am not sorry." 
 
 "Well, if you don't beat the Dutch," Jim said, as 
 he went upstairs. 
 
 "Really, Sadie, I am sorry," said Aunt Mattie, a 
 little later, "but I planned to go up early to-night, as 
 I have not finished my packing." 
 
 "Do go up whenever you like. Aunt Mattie. Eve- 
 lyn can see you in yoiu* room." 
 
 "Of course I don't mean to go just yet, it is only 
 half-past eight." 
 
 Evelyn had always wanted to sit up late like the 
 grown-up people, but now that she was doing it she 
 found it very stupid. 
 
 Her mother was slowly knitting on the sweater, 
 and her Aunt Mattie said, as she often did, how much 
 quicker she could knit if she would only learn the 
 Continental way, and her Aunt Hilda was making a 
 helmet, while her father read aloud a very stupid 
 book. Evelyn had never felt so sleepy in her whole 
 life. She wondered what would happen if she went 
 to sleep. Her father's voice seemed to grow farther 
 and farther away, and then, the first thing she knew. 
 
38 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 she found herseK being taken upstairs by her father. 
 Aunt Hilda was coming up too. 
 
 "Evelyn," said Aunt EGlda, "your mother said I 
 could put you to bed to-night." 
 
 Aunt Hilda's voice was so kind that the tired Kttle 
 girl threw her arms around her neck. 
 
 "Evelyn," said Aunt Hilda, "I love you very 
 much, even when you are naughty, and you were 
 naughty to-night. Aunt Mattie wanted to do you a 
 kindness, and she got what seemed to her the prettiest 
 dress she could find. Suppose you wanted to make a 
 little girl very happy and so you gave her your doll, 
 Sarah." 
 
 "I could n't, because she is my favorite child." ' 
 
 "I know, but we are just supposing. Suppose you 
 did, and the little girl said, 'I hate her, she is only an 
 ugly rag doll,' how would you feel?" 
 
 "I should feel horrid," Evelyn confessed, "but 
 Sarah is such a darling." 
 
 "But as your mother said, 'tastes differ.' Now if 
 you can like a rag doll even when she is old and care- 
 worn, don't you think you could learn to like a fresh 
 new dress, when Aunt Mattie was so good as to give 
 it to you?" 
 
 "No, I don't. Aunt Hilda." 
 
 "Perhaps you could not think it pretty, but 
 you could feel kindly to Aunt Mattie, who meant 
 to be so kind. I know you are fond of Aunt 
 Mattie." 
 
THE PLAID DRESS 39 
 
 "Not fond of her the way I am of you and mother." 
 
 "Dear Aunt Mattie is the salt of the earth," said 
 Hilda. "I am very fond of her, and I hate to see her 
 unhappy." 
 
 "Is she unhappy?" 
 
 "Yes, you made her feel very badly. Now, if I 
 were a little girl and had had a frock given to me I 
 did not like, and had made my aunt unhappy, I could 
 not go to sleep until I had made things right. I 
 could n't think it right to say I liked the frock if I 
 did n't, but I should want to run right into her room 
 and kiss her good-bye, and say, 'Please forgive me for 
 speaking the way I did.' I'll come with you if it will 
 make it any easier." 
 
 Evelyn shook her head. "I'd rather go all by my 
 own self," she said. 
 
 Aimt Mattie had put the last things into her trunk 
 and was tugging and straining to get the cover down, 
 for so many more things had gone into it than had 
 come out. She looked heated and very tired. She 
 had not pulled down the curtain that was on the win- 
 dow that overlooked the garden, for there was no one 
 on that side of the house to look in. The night was 
 still and very beautiful. The silver moon was far up in 
 the sky and the leaves on the oak tree showed almost 
 as plain as if it were day. They were always the last 
 leaves to come out in the spring and they were almost 
 full-grown now. There was something in the peace 
 and beauty of the night and in Aunt Hilda's words 
 
40 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 that made the little girl feel as if she wanted to be a 
 good child. 
 
 "Good-bye, Aunt Mattie," she said; "I'm sorry 
 I was such a naughty girl." 
 
 "That is a good girl," said Aunt Mattie, as she 
 kissed her warmly. "I know you'll like the pretty 
 plaid dress when you begin to wear it." 
 
 Evelyn shut her lips tight together until she got 
 out of the room, and then she said to herself, "I shall 
 always hate it." 
 
V 
 
 Evelyn! s War Work 
 
 EVELYN always wanted to go to church on Sun- 
 day morning, and this was because she was not 
 always allowed to go, so it was a great treat. Her 
 mother said she could not keep two children in order, 
 so unless her father went Evelyn stayed at home; but 
 now that her Aimt Hilda had come, everything was 
 different. Mrs. West could sit at one end of the pew 
 with Evelyn between her and Aunt Hilda, and Jim 
 could sit at the other end on days when his father 
 stayed at home, but this morning all the family were 
 going to church. 
 
 "I wish I could take Virginia with me," said Evelyn. 
 
 "My darling child," said her mother, "that can 
 never be, and yet you keep on teasing every Sunday 
 just as if you thought I might change my mind." 
 
 "You do change your mind about lots of things." 
 
 "Not about a thing like that. Just suppose every 
 little girl who went to church were to take a doll, 
 what would the minister say?" 
 
 "Of course you could n't take a doll to church," 
 said Jim. 
 
 "You can take a book. I don't see why I can't take 
 a doll." 
 
43 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "Jim does n't take a bat and ball or marbles," said 
 Mrs. West. "If you come to church, Evelyn, I want 
 you to try to sit as still as a mouse and listen to what 
 Mr. Merrifield says. I am sure you can understand 
 some of it." 
 
 EveljTi was very fond of Nancy's father, but she 
 could not see why he preached such long sermons all 
 about things she could not understand. She meant 
 to ask him some day if he would mind if she took 
 Virginia to church. He was kind and sensible, and 
 she was sure he would see that if one did not know 
 how to read, the time seemed long. And yet long as 
 it seemed she never wanted to be left at home. 
 
 This morning Evelyn noticed that two flags were 
 hanging from the gallery. One had the stars and 
 stripes like the flag that hung from an upper win- 
 dow at their house, and the other was a strange one 
 that she had never seen before. It was white with 
 an Indian in the center. Evelyn was so curious about 
 these flags that she asked her mother, in a whisper, 
 why they were there and what the flag with the 
 Indian was. It was such a loud whisper that Nancy 
 turned around to look at her, and Mrs. West said, 
 "Hush, dear." 
 
 There was a good deal in the sermon that Evelyn 
 could understand. It was all about preparing and 
 doing something for the war. 
 
 "No one can be exempt from this service," said 
 Mr. Merrifield. "There is no age limit. Neither 
 
EVELYN'S WAR WORK 43 
 
 can any physical disability exempt a man. If he 
 is unable to fight, he can serve the State in some 
 way." 
 
 Here Mr. West began to be interested, for it was a 
 grief to him that, as he was forty-one years old and 
 handicapped by near sight, taking an active part in 
 the war was out of the question. 
 
 "Sex does not exempt one," the minister went on, 
 and Mrs. West looked guilty, while Aunt Hilda de- 
 cided to go and work at the War Relief meetings 
 four times a week instead of twice. 
 
 "And the smallest child can find some work to do." 
 
 Evelyn began to wonder what she could do, and 
 of all the family Jim was the only one who was sat- 
 isfied with himself. He wished he were old enough 
 to go and fight, but as he was n't, he had made a 
 washcloth, so he had done his bit. 
 
 There was a great deal of talking after church, and 
 every one said what a fine sermon it was; and some 
 people went home and forgot all about it, but others 
 tried to find some work to do. Mrs. West and Aunt 
 Hilda got quantities of gayly colored chintz to make 
 pillow-covers for the soldiers, and Mrs. West emptied 
 out her piece-bag, and she and Aunt Hilda snipped 
 up the pieces to make the inside of the pillows, and 
 all the neighbors brought in pieces to be snipped up. 
 Evelyn was greatly interested in the things they 
 brought, for besides pieces there were old torn white 
 petticoats and shirt-waists with darned places in them. 
 
44 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Everything had been carefully washed first, as Mrs. 
 Merrifield was so particular about germs. 
 r "I want to work for the war, too," said Evelyn, 
 who longed to be allowed to snip. 
 
 "I am afraid you would cut your fingers instead 
 of the cloth," said her mother. 
 
 "I know I could snip. I could snippity, snippity, 
 snip all day long." 
 
 "I have some scissors that are round at the ends," 
 said Aunt Hilda; " she could n't cut herself with those." 
 
 "Oh, goody, goody!" said Evelyn. "I can snip 
 with you, mother, and the Blue Aunt." 
 
 "Why do you call her the Blue Aunt?" asked her 
 mother. 
 
 Evelyn paused for a minute. "Because her eyes 
 are so blue," she said. 
 
 "I think there must be some other reason back of 
 that one," said Aunt Hilda; "but it is curious she 
 should caU me that, because blue has always been 
 my color, and when I was a little girl my mother 
 dressed me in blue frocks and called me her httle 
 Blue Bird." 
 
 "People always suggest colors to me," said Mrs. 
 West. "Perhaps they do to Evelyn. A stanch, loyal, 
 dependable person with charm is what I think of as 
 a blue person. If she is reliable and does n't have 
 charm, I think of her as a brown person. And then 
 there are the pink people: they always seem to me 
 very agreeable, but you can never be sure of them." 
 
EVELYN'S WAR WORK 45 
 
 "What color am I, mother?" asked Evelyn. 
 
 "Sometimes you're blue and sometimes you're 
 pink, like the little barometer lady who changes with 
 the weather." 
 
 "And what color is Nancy?" 
 
 "A lovely, restful shade of sage green." 
 
 "And what color is Jim?" 
 
 "Oh, my dear child, we can't stop to decide about 
 the color of everybody. Evelyn, the pieces you are 
 snipping are too big. You want to do it right if you 
 do it at all. You don't want to be a pink child, but 
 a blue child." 
 
 Evelyn learned to snip very nicely. She snipped 
 little pieces out of the waist with the darned sleeves, 
 and she snipped up some white cotton, and she 
 snipped a part of the torn petticoat. She liked to 
 take little snips out of everything, instead of confin- 
 ing herself to one piece. 
 
 "I'm quite a help, mother, don't you think so?" 
 she asked. 
 
 Tim, the kitten, was greatly interested in the 
 snipping. He sat on the table in Aunt Hilda's room 
 while the family were at work, and once he gave 
 a flying leap and landed in the middle of the box 
 cover with snippings in it that Aimt Hilda had in 
 her lap. 
 
 "I think it might be a good idea if you and Tim 
 were to go out and have a good play this sunshiny 
 morning," said Mrs. West. 
 
46 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 But Evelyn and the kitten liked better to stay 
 just where they were. 
 
 Nancy got interested in snipping too, and one 
 afternoon she came over to play with Evelyn and 
 brought her blunt-pointed scissors with her, and a 
 faded pink frock that she had torn very badly the 
 last time she wore it. It was such a big barn-door 
 of a tear in the front breadth that it would be impos- 
 sible for any little girl to wear it, so Mrs. Merrifield 
 said the children might snip it up. 
 
 It was the afternoon when the AlUance met at the 
 parsonage, and Mrs. Merrifield was glad to have 
 Nancy out of the house. Mrs. West and the Blue 
 Aunt were going to the AlUance, and as it was Ann's 
 afternoon out, Catherine was to take care of the 
 children. It was a chilly afternoon and Mrs. Merri- 
 field said that she did not want Nancy to play out 
 of doors, so Catherine built a bright wood fire in the 
 nursery and sat there with her sewing while the chil- 
 dren did their war work. They were as good as it was 
 possible for little girls to be, and they enjoyed snipping 
 up the pink frock. 
 
 It never would have happened if the postman had 
 not brought Catherine a letter from home that after- 
 noon. When she heard his double ring at the door 
 she went down to see if she had a letter. She did not 
 mean to stay away so long, but the postman had 
 come from the same town that Catherine came from, 
 and so he waited to hear the news; the letter told 
 
EVELYN'S WAH WORK 47 
 
 how Catherine's youngest brother had enlisted, so she 
 had to telephone to her sister and read the letter to 
 her. She knew Nancy was such a good child that 
 she would keep EveljTi in order, and although she was 
 surprised to see, when she looked at the clock, that 
 she had been away from the children for more than 
 half an hour, they seemed as quiet as possible when 
 she went back to them. They had put the box of 
 snippings away and were playing with their doUs 
 when she came in. And yet something that was very 
 naughty, indeed, had been done in that time. 
 
 "What a pretty dress yours was, Nancy, before it 
 faded," said Evelyn. "I wish ugly dresses would 
 fade. I've got a hideous plaid dress Aunt Mattie 
 gave me. Do you want to see it.?" 
 
 Evelyn got the plaid dress and brought it to show 
 to Nancy. 
 
 "It is ugly," said Nancy. 
 ' "I wish I could snip it up," said Eveljm. "It 
 would make a nice insides for a soldier's pillow." 
 
 "Of course you can't snip it up," said Nancy; 
 "that would be very naughty. Oh, Evelyn!" she 
 cried in horror. "Don't! Don't!" 
 
 She tried to snatch the scissors from Evelyn's 
 hand, but it was too late. Evelyn had snipped a piece 
 out of the dress. "I hate it! I hate it! " she said. "It 
 will make a nice soft cushion for the soldiers." 
 
 It seemed to Nancy that she had never known 
 any one to do such a naughty thing. She looked at 
 
48 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Evelyn with her reproachful gray eyes. "But Aunt 
 Mattie is so dear, and she thought it was such a nice 
 present." i 
 
 "It is not a nice present," said Evelyn stubbornly, 
 and she chopped another piece out of the skirt. "It's 
 spoiled now," she said, "and you might just as well 
 help me cut it up." 
 
 "I won't help you," said Nancy. 
 
 Evelyn was beginning to feel sorry for her rash 
 deed, but it was too late now. 
 
 "It would have made a good dress for some little 
 girl," said Nancy. 
 
 Evelyn snipped a piece out of a sleeve. "I'd like 
 to get it all snipped up before Catherine comes back," 
 she said. "I think you are horrid not to help me." 
 
 "I won't help you," said the usually gentle Nancy. 
 
 Evelyn snipped away until she heard Catherine's 
 step on the stairs, then she put the dress and the box 
 of snippings in the closet, and when Catherine came 
 into the room she saw two little girls playing with 
 their dolls. 
 
 "Did you get tired of your war work?" she asked, 
 in her warm, deep-toned voice. 
 
 Nancy hung her head and looked as if she had been 
 doing something very wrong, but Evelyn said, "Yes, 
 we thought we would n't snip any more." 
 
 "I '11 ^weep up the pieces on the floor," said Cather- 
 ine. 
 
 Evelyn got down hastily and began to pick up the 
 
EVELYN'S WAR WORK 49 
 
 pieces, for there were some telltale bits of plaid among 
 the snippings. "Don't bother, Catherine," she said. 
 
 "You are a good Uttle girl to tidy up the room," 
 said Catherine. She wondered why Nancy looked 
 so troubled. 
 
 Evelyn was an honest child, and this undeserved 
 praise made her feel very uncomfortable. 
 
 Unsuspicious Catherine was thinking about her 
 home letter, and her eyes were on her own sewing. 
 
 Evelyn meant to tell her mother about the dress, 
 but not to-night. She hoped her mother would not 
 mind so very much, for she must think it an ugly 
 dress, and she would see how hard it was for a little 
 girl to wear a dress she hated, and how good it was 
 for a soldier to have a comfortable pillow. And yet in 
 the back of her mind she knew perfectly weU that she 
 had been a naughty girl. She also knew that, however 
 her mother might feel, the Blue Aunt would feel very 
 sorry, and she loved the Blue Aunt and wanted very 
 much to please her. If she had only thought of Aunt 
 Hilda and of those things she had said about not 
 hurting Aunt Mattie's feeUngs, she would not have 
 snipped up the dress, but she had not once thought 
 of Aunt Hilda. 
 
 It was too late now. The dress was spoiled, and the 
 more she thought about it the worse she felt. She 
 saw now what a naughty girl she had been, and she 
 wished it could be like a fairy story and another dress 
 could grow out just where the old one used to be. 
 
50 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 As Nancy said, it would have done some little girl 
 good, and now it could never be of use to any child. 
 
 When her mother and her aunt came home from 
 the Alliance they found a letter from Aunt Mattie. 
 She invited Jim and Evelyn to come up to the farm 
 for two weeks. "Evelyn had better bring along her 
 plaid gingham," she said. "It will be just the thing 
 for her up here. It is so strong, and it will not show 
 the dirt." 
 
 Evelyn felt worse and worse. It did not seem as if 
 she could tell them about the dress, and yet it would 
 be worse if they found out about it without her tell- 
 ing it. Suppose her mother should go to the closet 
 and find the box of snippings and the dress with the 
 pieces snipped out? 
 
 Her mother was so tired after the Alliance that she 
 went to bed soon after supper, and it was Aunt Hilda 
 who put Evelyn to bed. She looked at dear Aimt 
 Hilda and wondered if she could get up her courage 
 to tell her what a bad girl she had been. Aunt Hilda 
 was very sweet, but grave, and the little girl found 
 it hard to begin. 
 
 Evelyn said her prayers to Aimt Hilda, and when 
 she came to "Please make me a good girl," it was 
 too much for her; when the prayer was finished she 
 said, "Aunt Hilda, I've been the baddest kind of girl 
 to-day." 
 
 "Tell me all about it," said Aunt Hilda. "Perhaps 
 I can help you; that is what a Blue Aunt is for. If I 
 
EVELYN'S WAR WORK 51 
 
 were just an ordinary aunt I might only help you 
 when you are good, but as I am a Blue Aunt I hope 
 I can be of use when you are not good." 
 
 And as she saw Aunt Hilda in her black gown with 
 the white frill about the neck and looked into her kind 
 blue eyes, she was no longer afraid. It was easy to 
 tell her the whole story. 
 
 "I was very bad," she said. "I snippited up the 
 plaid dress for the insides of a soldier's pillow." 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Aunt Hilda. "I went to the 
 nursery closet to get some more of the brown worsted 
 for my sweater, and I stopped to put the box of snip- 
 pings in its place on the shelf, so I knew what had 
 happened. I was sure the pussy could not have 
 snipped it, and I knew Catherine would n't have, or 
 Nancy." 
 
 "And mother knows?" 
 
 "I thought I would wait for you to tell us, and, 
 dear, there is something I was going to propose. 
 I know you are so sorry you don't need any pimish- 
 ment. It is very strange, but usually a sin brings its 
 own punishment, for we feel so badly when we do 
 wrong. I suppose you would give a great deal if the 
 plaid dress were back in your closet." 
 
 "Yes, I wish you were a fairy and could make it 
 whole again!" 
 
 "I'd a great deal rather be a Blue Aunt. I am 
 pretty sure there are other frocks in the store just 
 like your plaid one, for I saw some yesterday when 
 
52 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 I went to get my khaki yarn. Now, if you like, I '11 , 
 buy you another like the one you snipped up, and 
 so, when you go to stay with Aunt Mattie, you won't 
 have to tell her what you did. I don't think she could 
 understand, and it would just make her unhappy. 
 We'll tell your mother all about it as soon as we have 
 bought the new plaid frock, for she will understand, 
 and one does n't want secrets from one's mother; 
 and every time you are tempted to do something 
 naughty you can think of the plaid dress, and re- 
 member how hard it is after one has done wrong. 
 Some bad things I did when I was a little girl I have 
 never forgotten. They make me hot and ashamed 
 every time I think of them even now." 
 
 "What bad things did you do?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Perhaps I'll tell you some time, but I'm tired to- 
 night." 
 
 "You never tell me things unless you tell me right 
 off. You've never told me how old the little Gays 
 are." 
 
VI 
 
 The Blue Aunts Plan 
 
 AUNT HILDA really loved children. Many peo- 
 ple say they do, but they only love them when 
 they are good and tidy and clean and quiet. But 
 Aunt Hilda loved them when they were good and 
 bad and clean and dirty and quiet and noisy. She 
 loved them best when they were good, and this made 
 them want to be good; but she never once said, "Go 
 away, children, I am busy." 
 
 The door of her room was usually wide open, and 
 everybody wandered in: her brother and her sister- 
 in-law and the children, and even Tim, the kitten, 
 who soon found that no remarks were made when he 
 curled up in the middle of her white bedspread. Ann 
 was the only person in the house who found fault with 
 Hilda, but Ann always found fault with every one. 
 She said Miss Hilda never seemed to think that clean 
 spreads should be treated with consideration, and that 
 the floor of her room, after they had been snipping, 
 looked as if there had been a snowstorm. 
 
 Hilda liked every one, even Ann. But the month 
 for which she had been invited was coming to an end. 
 
 "I am so glad you are going to spend the summer 
 with us," said her brother, "for this food conservation 
 
54 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 work is going to take me away from home a great 
 deal, and I shall feel so easy about Sadie and the chil- 
 dren, leaving them with you." 
 
 "But I am going next week." 
 
 "Nonsense. Of course you are going to live with us 
 always. We can't give you up." 
 
 "We can't give you up," echoed Jim. 
 
 At this point Tim, the kitten, jumped up in Aunt 
 Hilda's lap, as if he knew what was being said. He 
 put his furry paws around her neck and purred and 
 purred. She said, "Dear pussy," and stroked his soft 
 fur until Evelyn was so envious she came and climbed 
 into her aunt's lap too. 
 
 "Does anybody else want to come?" Hilda asked. 
 "I have room in my lap for several more." 
 
 "Of course you are going to stay all summer," 
 said Mr. West. 
 
 "I can't, for my plans are all made to go down on 
 the Cape with the Gays. You see you only asked me 
 to stay for a month." 
 
 "I did n't mean — " began her brother. 
 
 "Yes, you did, father," put in Jim; "you said a 
 month would be enough. I heard you." 
 
 "I heard you, too," said Evelyn. 
 
 "That was before I really knew you, Hilda, and 
 I did n't know how you and Sadie would get on; 
 she's taken a new lease of life since you came. So 
 just write to the Gays and tell them we need you, 
 and you've changed your plans." 
 
THE BLUE AUNT'S PLAN 55 
 
 "I can't, James. Mrs. Gay is depending on me to 
 share both the work and the expenses." 
 
 "Nonsense! Of course you must stay with us. The 
 work would be altogether too hard for you." 
 
 "Katharine Gay is my best friend, and the chil- 
 dren are just like real nephews and nieces." 
 
 The more firm his sister was the more urgent he 
 became. But it was of no use, the Blue Aunt had a 
 will of her own. The more he argued the firmer she 
 became. 
 
 "Don't you like living with us?" he asked. 
 
 "Of course I do. It is like a real home, but I feel 
 that way about the Gays, too; and besides, a promise 
 is a promise. I can't bear not to be with Sadie and 
 the children. There is one thing you might do. There 
 is a cottage close by the Gays' cottage. If it has n't 
 been rented, you might rent that for the summer. 
 If Sadie took Catherine down and left Ann in charge 
 here, I would promise to look after them just as much 
 as if we were under the same roof. I dare say it is the 
 last thing you want to do." 
 
 Mr. West was about to make some objection. It 
 always took him some time to get used to a new plan, 
 but as soon as she said it might be the last thing he 
 wanted to do, he began to think how many things 
 could be said in its favor. 
 
 "Oh, what fun it would be to go to the seashore!" 
 said Evelyn. 
 
 "I could teach the children to swim," said Hilda. 
 
56 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "Are there boats there?" asked Jim. 
 
 "The Gays don't have a boat of their own, but 
 there are fishermen who will take us out sailing." 
 
 "Are there golf links?" asked Mr. West. 
 
 "No; it is completely out of the world. You 
 would n't like it at all, James. It is only because you 
 say you will be away so much that I suggested Sadie 
 and the children going there." 
 
 "I don't know why I might n't like it very much," 
 said Mr. West. "The bathing must be good." ^ 
 
 "Yes, and we sometimes go clam-digging, but 
 there are no good roads, there are just scrambles over 
 and under fences and across the moors, and a sweep 
 of blue sky and sea and yellow sand, and a breeze all 
 the time, so it is never hot. It is more than ten years 
 since I have been there, but they say it has n't 
 changed. I should n't expect a man to like it, but it 
 is fine for women and children. Mr. Gay is going to 
 Plattsburg, and he said he would n't feel easy about 
 his family unless I was down there with them." 
 
 "I believe you are everybody's care-taker," said 
 her brother. 
 
 "No. It is only that I was father's care-taker so 
 long that there's a big void in my life I've got to fill 
 up somehow." 
 
 Everybody had grown to depend on Aunt Hilda, 
 and so it was arranged that she should take the chil- 
 dren up to Aunt Mattie's and spend a few days there 
 herself, and then come back to help Mrs. West get 
 
THE BLUE AUNT'S PLAN 57 
 
 ready to go away. She would then go down to the 
 Cape and help the Gays get settled. 
 
 The children could think and talk of nothing but 
 the summer at the seashore. They were almost sorry 
 they were to go to the farm first, and yet they loved 
 tJie farm and were fond of their cousins, and when 
 they once got there they liked it so much they did 
 not want to come away. 
 
 It was twice as pleasant because the Blue Aunt 
 was with them, for she enjoyed everything so much. 
 She waded in the brook with them and they took long 
 walks together, and picked wild strawberries, and 
 went to the woods; in fact, they did everything that 
 could be crowded into the four days she stayed. 
 They would have done more, only it rained the last 
 day. They had planned to go up to the shack on Pine 
 Hill and take their limch with them, but that had to 
 be put oflF. 
 
 It was hard to bid the Blue Aunt good-bye, but 
 it was only for a little time. It was harder for Lottie 
 and Harry and Prue, for they were not expecting to 
 see her again for a long time. It was hardest for 
 Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Mattie, for they were not 
 as yoimg as they used to be, especially Aunt Char- 
 lotte, who was seven years older than Aimt Mattie 
 and not strong. 
 
 "Good-bye, everybody; I've had a deUghtful visit," 
 said Hilda, waving her handkerchief to them as she 
 was driven down the road. 
 
58 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "It is a great thing to be young and strong and 
 charming," said Aunt Charlotte, as she wiped her 
 eyes. "I don't believe she minds leaving us a speck. 
 For wherever she goes there's somebody eager to see 
 her." 
 
 "Yes, Hector and Tim will be glad to get her back," 
 said Evelyn. 
 
 "Hector and Tim?" asked Aimt Charlotte. 
 
 "They are just a dog and a cat, Charlotte," Aunt 
 Mattie explained. "The children have given them 
 those ridiculous names. And they talk about them 
 as if they were as important as people." 
 
 "The pussy cat is named for the chore-man, but 
 I like the pussy much the best," said Evelyn. 
 
VII 
 
 A Safe and Sane Fourth of July 
 
 IT was the evening before the Fourth, and Aunt 
 Mattie was telling the children about the good 
 times she had when she was a little girl and fire- 
 crackers and torpedoes were plentiful and fireworks 
 were the feature of the evening. 
 
 "A safe and sane Fourth is all very well for us 
 grown folks," she said, "but I am sorry for you chil- 
 dren." 
 
 "There are lots of things we can do," said Prue. 
 "There's the Procession and the Band Concert and 
 the tent on the Common where they sell red balloons 
 and popcorn and doughnuts and pink lemonade for 
 the benefit of the Red Cross." 
 
 "These affairs are very tiring for old ladies to go 
 to, my dear!" 
 
 "But we are not old ladies," said Jim. 
 
 "You children are too yoimg to go to those places 
 by yourselves. I wish Hilda could have stayed." 
 
 Aunt Charlotte saw the disappointed faces of the 
 children, and she said: "I'll get Griffith Newcomb to 
 drive us all down to the Common, and we'll see the 
 procession go by and get some red balloons and 
 doughnuts and popcorn and pink lemonade, and 
 
60 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 then we'll be driven up to the shack on Pine Hill 
 and have a picnic there, and he can come for us at 
 the end of the day. How is that for a safe and sane 
 Fourth?" 
 
 Everybody liked the idea, and in the morning 
 everybody was glad to find it was a simshiny day; 
 a little too hot, perhaps, but one can't expect every- 
 thing, considering Fourth of July is not Christmas. 
 
 "I'll put on your plaid dress, Evelyn," said Aunt 
 Mattie. "It is the gayest dress you have and looks 
 very festive, and there is some red, white, and blue 
 in it." 
 
 As she fastened it up, Aunt Mattie was sur- 
 prised to find it was so large. "It is a size too big 
 for you," she said. "It would just fit Prue. I did 
 not realize I was getting such a large size." 
 
 She had not, but when Aunt Hilda and Evelyn 
 went to the store there was only this bigger frock left. 
 
 "Your mother ought to have shortened this dress; 
 you look like a candle with an extinguisher on it." 
 
 "What's an extinguisher. Aunt Mattie?" 
 
 "Bless my soul! To think of the modern child 
 brought up with electric lights and not knowing 
 about extinguishers." 
 
 Aunt Mattie was very busy getting the luncheon 
 ready for the picnic, and she said she did not care to 
 see the procession; they could stop for her on their 
 way home. The children were very fond of dear 
 Aunt Charlotte, who was the grandmother of Lottie 
 
A SAFE AND SANE FOURTH OF JULY 61 
 
 and Harry and Prue. The girls all wanted to sit 
 next Aunt Charlotte on the back seat, and the boys 
 wanted to sit on the front seat and help drive. But 
 the carriage was not large enough to hold all, so the 
 boys were told they could walk down to the village. 
 The girls had quite a quarrel as to who was to sit 
 on the back seat, but finally Lottie sat in front and 
 the two little girls behind. Lottie was a good deal 
 older than the others. She would soon be in her 
 'teens, and she was beginning to seem quite grown 
 up. 
 
 Oh! That procession! The children will never 
 forget it, for there were soldiers in it, live soldiers in 
 khaki, who had enlisted, and there were fla^s of all 
 kinds: red, white, and blue ones with the stars and 
 stripes, and gay, unfamiliar ones that belonged to 
 the Allies. There were floats, too, and in one of these 
 wagons sat a girl with a red, white, and blue flag 
 draped over her and a gold helmet on her head, and 
 on the back of the wagon was a sign, "The Goddess 
 of Liberty." There were groups representing the 
 different nations, and jokes about food conservation 
 and many other funny things, and last of all came 
 Uncle Sam. He was in khaki, and looked very fierce 
 with a musket. On his back was a placard that 
 said, "Late, but, oh, my!" 
 
 Evelyn wondered why everybody laughed and 
 cheered when he went by, but she never knew, for 
 before she could ask, the band struck up "The Star- 
 
62 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Spangled Banner," and this put it entirely out of her 
 head; Jim had said that as everybody must rise when 
 it was played he was going to climb a tree, and she 
 was anxious to see if he really did. And he did. There 
 was a branch of a tree quite handy to the fence he was 
 on, and he climbed up as far as he could go, with 
 Harry after him. Aunt Charlotte called out, "Boys, 
 boys!" And Jim shouted back, "We had to rise! It's 
 ' The Star-Spangled Banner ' ! " 
 
 Gentle Aunt Charlotte got so excited herself that 
 she rose in the carriage and waved her handkerchief. 
 It had been a safe enough Fourth so far, but Aunt 
 Charlotte was not sure it had been very sane. 
 
 The tent part was very exciting, for Aimt Charlotte 
 bought each of the younger children a red balloon. 
 Lottie refused to have one, neither did she care for 
 popcorn or doughnuts, but she condescended to have 
 a glass of pink lemonade. It was so hot in the tent 
 that she said she could n't stand it, so the others had 
 to leave before they were ready, but not before they 
 had had a lot of fun. 
 
 The picnic came next. This was the part that was 
 not safe, at least not for every one. But no one knew 
 this beforehand, and everybody went off in high 
 spirits. Even Aunt Mattie was overflowing with 
 good cheer. She and the boys walked most of the way 
 up, and Prue and Evelyn part of the way. But Lottie 
 and her grandmother rode all the way. 
 
 It was so beautiful in the woods that Prue and Eve- 
 
A SAFE AND SANE FOURTH OF JULY 63 
 
 lyn were fairly crazy with delight. And there were so 
 many things to do. They found some ladies'-slippers 
 and pine cones and such soft green moss. The wind 
 made the pine branches move slowly and the birches 
 rustled. All the trees seemed whispering together, 
 and the sky was so blue, with white, fleecy clouds 
 floating in it, and Prue had on a red cotton crSpe 
 dress, so that made red, white, and blue. The bacon 
 that Aunt Mattie fried was deUcious, and so were the 
 potatoes that the boys baked. It did not matter at 
 all that an ant crawled on one of Evelyn's sand- 
 wiches, or that she had more mosquito bites than she 
 liked. 
 
 After lunch they all scattered, and Lottie was sup- 
 posed to have charge of Prue and Evelyn, but she 
 got interested in a book she had brought along, and 
 the little girls wandered off into the woods. 
 
 "Let's play we are lost," suggested Prue. "Let's 
 hide somewhere and frighten Lottie. She ought to 
 take care of us, and she is n't, and it would be fun to 
 give her a good scare." 
 
 Now, although Evelyn had on the plaid frock that 
 Aunt Hilda had hoped would act like a taUsman and 
 keep her from doing naughty things, she never once 
 thought of that; she thought what fun it would be to 
 pretend to be lost. Prue was Just enough older to 
 have everything she did seem very wonderful, and 
 Evelyn went gayly along the wood path behind her. 
 There were many things in the path that they had to 
 
64 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 stop to look at, such as red toadstools, and ground 
 pine, and flowers they had to pick, so they wandered 
 farther and farther away before they remembered 
 they were going to pretend to be lost, and by the 
 time they did remember they were really lost. They 
 could not find the path back, but took another 
 that looked like it, but that had no red toadstools 
 on it. 
 
 "I guess we are really lost," said Prue. "Oh, my! 
 I guess I turned my ankle hopping oflf that rock. It 
 hurts like fury." 
 
 Prue limped along to the edge of the wood, and 
 Evelyn tagged on behind her. Below them in the 
 valley they could see their own farmhouse, with the 
 great barns behind it and the wide piazza at the side. 
 There was no mistake about it. 
 
 "There is no other red house near; I know it's our 
 house," said Prue. "We'd just better climb down 
 the hill and walk home." 
 
 There was no path in that direction, and they 
 would have to scramble down as best they could, over 
 the rocks and through the bushes. Evelyn was not 
 at all frightened, for she had entire confidence in 
 Prue, but Prue was worried because she was afraid 
 Evelyn might slip and fall, and although she had not 
 hurt herself much, her foot was still paining her. 
 Evelyn had run on ahead, and at last she did slip. 
 Prue was frightened when she saw her trying to slide 
 o£E a high rock. 
 
A SAFE AND SANE FOURTH OF JULY 65 
 
 "Don't, Ewy, don't; wait for me and I'll help 
 you." 
 
 For a moment it seemed to the terrified Prue that 
 Evelyn would have a bad fall; she was slipping and 
 could not save herself; and then the long skirt of her 
 plaid gingham saved her, for it caught on the rock. 
 
 "Hold on till I get to you," said Prue, and she 
 pulled Evelyn up to firm ground. "Don't you slip 
 away from me again," she said. "You might have 
 been killed." 
 
 "Oh, no, I could n't," said Evelyn. 
 
 When the two children had scrambled down the 
 worst part of the hill, they sat down to rest. It 
 seemed hours since they had left Lottie. 
 
 "Well, I guess we've given them a good scare, any- 
 way," said Prue. "I didn't mean to scare grand- 
 mother. I don't mind about the others." 
 
 The two little girls were tired out, and Prue felt 
 she could not go a step farther imtil she had had a 
 long rest. They were not the only people who were 
 tired. Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Mattie had stretched 
 themselves comfortably out after they had packed 
 up the lunch-basket, and they had both taken naps; 
 and as the boys had gone over to play with a friend 
 who lived in a farmhouse near by, it was a long time 
 before any one missed the children. In fact when 
 Griffith Newcomb came up for them at five o'clock, 
 the only person he saw at first was Lottie, who was 
 just reading the last chapter of her book. 
 
66 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Lottie looked up in a dazed way; for the moment, 
 the forest she was reading about was more real than 
 the wood she was in. 
 
 "The boys have gone down to the Wellingtons. 
 We're to stop for them. Aunt Mattie said every- 
 body 'd be so tired we'd all have to squeeze in some- 
 how. But I have n't walked any. I 'd rather walk 
 home than be squeezed ia." 
 
 The aunts waked at the sound of voices, and 
 Aunt Mattie said: "You 've been sleeping all the 
 afternoon, Charlotte. I thought I would n't wake 
 
 you." 
 
 And Aunt Charlotte said, "Just forty winks, per- 
 haps, but as for you, Mattie, you were audibly 
 sleeping." 
 
 "I lost myself for a moment," Aunt Mattie ac- 
 knowledged. "Bless my soul, it must be five o'clock, 
 for here is Griffith. Come, children!" 
 
 "Where are Prue and Evelyn?" Lottie asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Where are they? Have n't you been taking care 
 of them?" 
 
 "No," Lottie stammered. "I thought they were 
 just around the corner." 
 
 "You did n't think anything about them," said 
 Aunt Mattie severely. "When you get a book you 
 are deaf, dumb, and blind!" 
 
 Her grandmother saw how badly Lottie was feeling, 
 and she gently put her hand on her head. "This child 
 
A SAFE AND SANE FOURTH OF JULY 67 
 
 is going to be a very useful person when she grows up, 
 for she has concentration," she said. 
 
 " Concentration ! " said Aunt Mattie. "Meanwhile, 
 before she grows up all her family and friends may be 
 smashed up." 
 
 Fortunately it was not a long fright, but it was a 
 bad one while it lasted, and what made it worse was 
 that every one felt so guilty. Of course, Lottie was 
 broken-hearted, but her grandmother felt almost as 
 badly. 
 
 "I ought not to have let those children out of my 
 sight for a moment," she said. "How could I go to 
 sleep! But I was so very tired with the sane Fourth, 
 and it was so heavenly to get out of the sun and under 
 the trees." 
 
 "It was all my fault," said generous Aunt Mattie, 
 "for while you were having your sane Fourth I was 
 having a safe one at home, and I was n't tired at all. 
 I don't know why I went to sleep. We forget what 9 
 child Lottie is." 
 
 ' It was Griffith who found the children at last after 
 an anxious half-hour, and he carried first one of the 
 tired little girls and then the other back to the car- 
 riage. He carried Evelyn first, and she was so tired 
 she kept opening and shutting her eyes, just as Vir- 
 ginia, her brown-eyed doll, might have done. When 
 he carried Prue back she was talking as fast as she 
 could all the way to the carriage, and when every- 
 
68 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 body found that the little girls were unharmed they 
 no longer felt so guilty. 
 
 "Why did you children run off like that?" Aunt 
 Mattie asked severely. "Didn't you know it was 
 naughty?" 
 
 "Yes, I did," said Prue, "but I wanted to scare 
 Lottie and make her think we were lost. I did n't 
 really mean to get lost, or to frighten any one but 
 Lottie." 
 
 "I am glad there isn't another holiday imtil 
 Thanksgiving," said Aunt Mattie that evening as she 
 cleared off the supper table. 
 
 "There's two holidays," said Harry, — "Labor 
 Day and Columbus Day." 
 
 "So there are. These new holidays always escape 
 me." 
 
 "They say they are going to have a big bang-up 
 pageant on Columbus Day, and all the children in 
 town are to take part in it," said Prue. 
 
 "I am glad the pageant is n't coming for some 
 months," said Aunt Mattie. "A sane and safe Fourth 
 is quite enough for me." 
 
VIII 
 
 The Journey 
 
 THEIR father came up for Sunday and to take 
 the children home, and a day or two later he 
 would take the family to the Cape, where Aunt Hilda 
 was already settled with the Gays. 
 
 Mr. West ran up to see his aimts once or twice 
 every year. He never stayed long, and he wanted to 
 be doing something every single minute whenever he 
 came. This time he got an automobile and took his 
 aunts and the children on such a very long ride that 
 both grown-ups and children were completely tired 
 out, although they enjoyed it intensely. He knew a 
 good deal about farming, and he told his Aunt Mattie 
 that she ought to plant more beans, and where corn 
 would grow, and how many wild strawberries were 
 going to waste, and how she should preserve them: 
 she finally said: "Look here, James, which would you 
 rather preserve, me or the strawberries? If you'll 
 pick the strawberries for me and plant the beans and 
 corn, take care of them and pick them, I '11 do the rest; 
 but it's impossible to get any one to work up here. 
 All the men have enlisted, and the women are getting, 
 big wages in munition factories. Now you are in this 
 conservation business, James, I wish you'd tell me 
 
70 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 what two old ladies on a farm can do. If we save the 
 sugar, we can't preserve the fruit, and if we preserve, 
 we can't save sugar. If the men all go to the war, they 
 can't farm, and if they farm, they can't go to the war. 
 So there you are. Charlotte says we ought to kill our 
 chickens and turkeys now grain is so high; but she 
 does n't know them individually, as I do. It would 
 seem to me like offering up Prue or Harry as a victim 
 to the high cost of living. Thank goodness, I'm not 
 a man of fighting age. It is against my principles to 
 kill even a mouse. I have the traps that catch them 
 alive, and I take the trap and go over to the other 
 side of the brook. Then I let the mouse out." 
 
 Her nephew laughed. " I am glad you 're not at the 
 front. Aunt Mattie. I suppose that's the way you'd 
 treat the prisoners you took." 
 
 "Of course I want the Germans to be beaten. We 're 
 in this war to fight to a finish. I am not a pacifist. But 
 I just don't want any one on either side to be killed." 
 
 Evelyn hated to say good-bye to Prue, for she 
 loved Prue better than any other little girl except 
 Nancy. Just before Aunt Charlotte came in to pack 
 Evelyn's small trunk, Prue said, "Did you ever want 
 something very, very much?" 
 
 "Lots of things," said Evelyn. 
 
 "Do you usually get what you want.?" 
 
 " Sometimes. I wanted a pussy cat, — I longed and 
 longed for a pussy cat, — and he came to Nancy's 
 house, and she had a cat, so she gave him to me." 
 
THE JOURNEY 71 
 
 "There is something of yours I want dreadfully," 
 said Prue. "But I can't ask you for it, because grand- 
 mother said I could n't, so I can only just say I want 
 it awfully." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Evelyn. 
 
 "It's your plaid dress. It is too big for you and 
 would just fit me, and I've always been crazy about 
 plaids. But I can't ask you for it, and it was a present 
 to you, so I suppose you would n't want to give it to 
 me. 
 
 "I'U give it to you right straight oflf now this 
 minute, darling Prue," said Evelyn. 
 
 "Dear, generous child!" said Aunt Charlotte, 
 when she was told about it. Evels^v felt guilty at 
 having this undeserved praise. But there are some 
 things that can never be explained. 
 
 The children were greatly excited when they got 
 home, and they hardly knew whether they were most 
 glad to see their mother or Hector or Tim. Hector 
 was crazy with delight when he saw Jim and Evelyn. 
 He jumped on Evelyn and put his paws around the 
 Uttle girl's neck and hcked her face; and then he did 
 the same to Jim. The kitten came and jumped into 
 Evelyn's lap and put his furry paws around her neck, 
 licking her just as the dog had done; while Mrs. West 
 hugged and kissed her children and said how much 
 she had missed them; so they were a very happy 
 family. 
 
72 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 It seemed too cruel to leave the animals behind with 
 Ann, for Catherine was the one who always fed them, 
 and while Ann would do her duty faithfully by them 
 she did not love them. Finally it was decided to take 
 Hector to the seashore, too. 
 
 "We'll have to leave the kitten at home," said Mrs. 
 West, "for it would be too inconvenient to take him." 
 
 "But, mother dear, I'll carry him," said Evelyn. 
 "He's such a good pussy, I brought him all the way 
 home from Nancy's." 
 
 "But he had a lame paw then. He's so lively you'd 
 lose your kitten the first thing. We'd have to take 
 him in a basket, and that would make him very un- 
 happy. Don't tease any more,. dear; I've decided." 
 
 "But, mother, he might grow big enough to catch 
 a bird while we were gone, and then father might give 
 him away." 
 
 "Nonsense, child; you know perfectly well that 
 your father is as daft over the kitten as you are." 
 
 When Evelyn went to bid Nancy good-bye she told 
 her trials to her. 
 
 "I do so want to take Tim down, he's such a dar- 
 ling pussy," she said, "and he'll be so lonely at home, 
 but mother says it'll be too much bother, and, any- 
 way, we have n't the right kind of basket." t 
 
 "I'll lend you our cat-basket," said Nancy. "Gin- 
 ger always travels that way, but this year we are 
 going to keep the house open. I'm sure mother 
 would n't mind." 
 
THE JOURNEY 73 
 
 The two little girls took a mournful farewell of each 
 other, for it would be so long before they saw each 
 other again; and then Nancy thrust the cat-basket 
 into Evelyn's hands and she went home very proud 
 and happy. 
 
 She thought it was best to show it to her father 
 first, and she said, "See, father, what a nice house I 
 have for Tim to travel in." 
 
 "So you are expecting to take Tim, little pigeon," 
 he said, pinching her ear. "What does your mother 
 say to that?" 
 
 Evelyn hesitated. "Father, you'll help me carry 
 the basket, won't you?" she asked. "Because I can't 
 carry Virginia too." 
 
 The night before the journey the children were so 
 excited they were sure they could never go to sleep, 
 but they both slept so well that when Ann came to 
 wake Jim in the early morning she had to knock three 
 times, and Evelyn's mother had to shake her little 
 girl gently before she opened her drowsy eyes. Then 
 such a scramble as there was to get ready! 
 
 Mr. West had got a motor to take them into Boston 
 for the half-past seven train, and they had to leave 
 the house at six o'clock. First Mrs. West got into the 
 motor; she let Evelyn and Jim sit on the seat with 
 her. Jim carried his mother's umbrella and sun- 
 shade strapped together, and Evelyn carried Virginia. 
 Catherine got in next, with her dress-suit case and 
 the cat-basket with a surprised and mournful pussy 
 
74 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 in it: then Mr. West put in his own dress-suit case, 
 and another one that had in it the luncheon and extra 
 wraps. He also had Hector on a leash, and Hector 
 sat up in the motor quite like a person. But of all the 
 people Evelyn was the busiest, for she had to talk to 
 Hector and Tim to keep them contented, to say noth- 
 ing of Virginia. When they were all safe in the train 
 for the Cape, Mr. and Mrs. West gave a sigh of relief, 
 but for the children the fun was just beginning. 
 
 It was sad that Hector had to travel in the baggage 
 car. Mr. West and Jim immediately made a trip to 
 see how he was getting on, and then Evelyn slipped 
 out of her seat to go with them, but her mother said, 
 "Darling, you must stay with me; the baggage car is 
 no place for us." 
 
 And Evelyn said to Virginia, "I am so sorry, dear, 
 but the baggage car is no place for you." 
 
 Pretty soon Evelyn went across to the other side of 
 the car to visit Catherine and the kitten. Evelyn was 
 so sociable that she made friends with a kind old man 
 with white hair and spectacles, who sat in the seat 
 behind Catherine. 
 
 Evelyn kneeled on the seat and said, "You can't 
 guess what we've got in that basket." 
 
 And he said, "I guess it's a kangaroo." 
 
 And Evelyn said, "No; guess again." 
 
 And he said, "I guess it's a giraffe." 
 
 "No; guess again." 
 
 "I guess it's a gazelle." 
 
THE JOURNEY 75 
 
 And Evelyn said, "No; guess again, and then I'll 
 tell you." 
 
 He took off his spectacles and looked very wise and 
 said, "I guess it's a small-sized tiger." 
 
 And Evelyn said, "How did you know? It is a 
 tiger kitten." 
 
 And the man said, "He is traveling in such a large 
 basket, I thought at first he must be a very large 
 animal." 
 
 And Evelyn said: "I don't believe you could ever 
 guess his name. Oh, what have you got in that paper 
 bag? Is it your luncheon?" 
 
 The old man took out a cocoanut cake and offered 
 it to her, and Mrs. West came across the car and said, 
 "Darling, you must n't talk so much; come back to 
 your seat and settle down for a httle while." 
 
 When Mr. West and Jim came back, Mr. West was 
 kept busy, for Evelyn wanted a drink of water in one 
 of those funny paper cups, and then she begged so 
 hard to go to see Hector that he finally took her into 
 the baggage car; then she was so hungry that he 
 had to unstrap the dress-suit case and take out the 
 luncheon, and before any one could stop her she 
 dashed across the car with a sandwich for the old 
 man. 
 
 "He only had cocoanut cakes for his limcheon," 
 she explained. "I thought we'd exchange." And she 
 had popped a cocoanut cake into her mouth before 
 any one could stop her. 
 
76 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 It was a grand journey ! And the end of it was the 
 most thrilling part of all. 
 
 "There's a wreck on the track," said Mr. West, 
 when he came back from his last trip to the baggage 
 car. "We'll all have to get out and walk to the sta- 
 tion when we get to North Sandhurst. What a nui- 
 sance!" 
 
 The children's eyes danced; the wreck sounded so 
 exciting. It was not a bad wreck, but just the kind 
 Aunt Mattie would have liked, for no one had been 
 killed on either side. One freight train had run into 
 another, and a car was still on the track, all twisted 
 and maimed. Everybody had to scramble off the 
 train and walk a long distance over the railroad ties 
 or in the sand. Evelyn clung to her mother's hand, 
 and her mother carried Virginia for her. Mr. West got 
 into the baggage car and returned with Hector, who 
 was wild with delight at being free and jumped up 
 on all his friends in turn. Besides Hector, Mr. West 
 carried two dress-suit cases; and Catherine carried her 
 own and the cat-basket, and firmly refused to give 
 either to the persistent young brakeman who offered 
 to help her. Jim dropped the umbrella and sunshade 
 when Hector jumped up on him, and they got covered 
 with sand. Just as the children were beginning to 
 wonder when they were going to get to Sandhurst, 
 they saw dear Aunt Hilda coming down the railroad 
 track toward them, in a big shade hat and a white 
 frock with a black ribbon around the waist. There was 
 
THE JOURNEY 77' 
 
 a strange lady with her who was tall and slim, with a 
 kind face. Evelyn knew it must be Mrs. Gay. 
 
 Aunt Hilda came forward, and Hector leaped up on 
 her; she took his leash out of her brother's hand and 
 made Catherine give her the cat-basket. The tall 
 lady took the cat-basket from Aimt Hilda, and she 
 said in her kind voice: — 
 
 "We'll all get into the caboose, and the engine will 
 stop just in front of the house. Usually we have to 
 walk from the station, but this wreck will make it 
 like having a private car, for they'll stop just below 
 the cottages so all we'll have to do is to scramble up 
 the bank." 
 
 They all climbed into the caboose with the other 
 passengers, except Mr. West and Hector, and the chil- 
 dren thought it great fun to have this ride in the funny 
 little car back of the engine. Presently Aunt Hilda 
 said, "There is yoiu" house," and Evelyn looked out 
 and saw two gray cottages standing side by side at 
 the top of the bank. They were just alike except one 
 house was a little larger than the other and had a 
 wider piazza, and this was their house. Coming down 
 the bank from the other house were four children, and 
 Evelyn was sure they were the Httle Gays. 
 
 First there came a big boy a size bigger than Jim, 
 and Evelyn knew he must be Ralph. Behind him was 
 the dearest little girl she had ever seen, just her size 
 and with yellow hair like hers, but with blue eyes in- 
 stead of brown. That was Lily, she was sure. Behind 
 
78 THE BLUE AUNT. 
 
 her was a middle-sized girl almost as big as Lottie, 
 with a sweet, gentle face like the tall lady's, and cUng- 
 ing to her was a chubby, small boy. The girl must be 
 Patty and the boy Rodman. 
 
 When Evelyn and her mother got out of the ca- 
 boose, the tall lady said, "These are my children," 
 and Evelyn knew she was going to find out at last 
 just how old the little Gays were. 
 
 She did find out, and also when their birthdays 
 came. And what was strangest of all was that she 
 and Lily Gay were the same age, with birthdays in the 
 same week. She had never had a friend exactly her 
 own age, and she knew before she went to bed that 
 night that she was going to love Lily just as well as 
 she loved Nancy. She remembered she had felt the 
 same way about Virginia. She had loved her the 
 first minute she saw her, just as much as she loved 
 any of her doll children. 
 
IX 
 
 The Little Gays 
 
 JIM and Evelyn had never had such a good time 
 in all their lives as they had now. Just to be at 
 the seashore was enough to make them very happy, 
 but to have four children to play with greatly added 
 to their pleasure. Patty and Ralph and Lily invented 
 exciting new games, and little Rodman was a darling; 
 "golden rod," the children called him, because he 
 was so sunny. He was always ready to be a horse, or 
 a child, or an automobile, or a private soldier, or any- 
 thing else the others did not want to be. 
 
 There were so many things to do that the day was 
 not haH long enough. It began very early, indeed, 
 for the little Gays, because Aunt Hilda, who always 
 got breakfast, liked to have the work well out of the 
 way before it was time to go in bathing. The little 
 Gays all did some of the housework. Patty and Lily 
 made the beds and helped with the dishes, and Ralph 
 carried the water upstairs, and did many other things. 
 Jim and Evelyn were so interested that they asked 
 if they could not make their beds. 
 
 A high-school girl whose name was Florence came 
 every morning to help Mrs. Gay get dinner, while 
 Aunt Hilda went in bathing with the children. This 
 
80 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 was the great treat of the day. Aunt Hilda was teach- 
 ing the younger ones how to swim, with the help of 
 Patty and Ralph, who were good swimmers for their 
 age. After the bath the children played in the sand, 
 while Mrs. West and Aunt Hilda sat and watched 
 them or played with them. They were allowed to go 
 barefoot, so it did not matter if they let the little waves 
 come up over their feet. The two families separated 
 for dinner and came together again for a wonderful 
 afternoon. 
 
 If the tide were low sometimes Aunt Hilda would 
 take the children and Hector for a walk along the shin- 
 ing yellow sands, far, far out to where they joined the 
 blue sea, while the children waded into all the little 
 pools along the way; and there were two great occa- 
 sions when they went clam-digging. Always, before 
 the two famiUes separated for supper. Aunt Hilda 
 had what she called "The Children's HaK-Hour," 
 when they gathered about her on the Gays' broad 
 piazza if it were pleasant, or in the big living-room if 
 it were stormy, while she told them stories. 
 
 One day Mrs. West had a bright idea. "Why 
 should n't we all dine together?" she said. "It seems 
 such a pity to separate. It would not be much more 
 trouble for Catherine to cook for us all, and Florence 
 could help her prepare the vegetables and wash the 
 dishes." 
 
 Catherine and Florence thought this an excellent 
 plan, and so did Mrs. Gay, because she would not 
 
THE LITTLE GAYS 81 
 
 have to get dinner any more; and Aunt Hilda was 
 pleased, because Mrs. Gay could now come down on 
 the beach with them; and every single child cried, 
 "Goody, goody goody, what fun!" or something that 
 meant the same thing. So there were no two happier 
 families in all the State than the Gays and Wests, on 
 the day when they decided to have their dinners to- 
 gether. 
 
 But, alas! something unforeseen happened. It 
 proved that to bring the little Gays and the little 
 Wests together at dinner was like scratching matches 
 on a match-scratcher. The matches are as quiet as 
 mice so long as you leave them in a dish, but once 
 you scratch them on the match-scratcher things be- 
 come very lively, indeed. 
 
 And when the little Gays dined with the httle 
 Wests, things were very, very hvely. It was like a 
 conflagration. And no one seemed able to put out the 
 fire. The older people could not hear themselves talk, 
 for all six children seemed to think of so many things 
 to say. Their voices grew louder and louder, and 
 neither Mrs. Gay nor Mrs. West could make any 
 impression on them. 
 
 Mrs. Gay would say, "Children, don't all talk at 
 once." And Mrs. West would say, "Children, I am 
 almost crazy with the noise." And Aunt Hilda, who 
 was the only one who could have made them mind, 
 did not feel it was her place to say anything when two 
 mothers were present. 
 
82 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 After this had been going on for a few days, Mrs. 
 Gay said to her: "Hilda, I think your niece and 
 nephew are dear children, and they are very spirited 
 and interesting, but I should not have supposed that 
 two extra children could make more noise than all of 
 my four put together. "What shall we do about it?" 
 
 And Mrs. West took Hilda aside and said : "Evelyn 
 and Jim had such good table manners and were so 
 quiet at meals. I don't know what their father will 
 say when he comes down again. The Gays are de- 
 lightful children, but they have a most demoralizing 
 effect on my two. And yet I can't draw back when 
 I've asked them to have dinner at my house. Can 
 you make any suggestion?" 
 
 "If you will give me authority to make them mind, 
 and tell the children this," said Aunt Hilda, "I am 
 pretty sure I can have quiet dinners." 
 
 Mrs. West's brown eyes grew larger and larger, and 
 she said, "What are you going to do?" 
 
 Aunt Hilda smiled and said, "That is my secret." 
 
 When Mrs. Gay heard that Hilda had some plan, 
 she was so curious she could hardly wait for the next 
 day's dinner-time to come. 
 
 The next morning it rained, and this made it hard 
 for the children, for it was no ordinary rain; it poured, 
 and the wind blew a gale and drove the rain all across 
 the piazza where they had been having their dinners; 
 and there were two bad leaks in the roof, so that 
 Evelyn and her mother had to put a washbowl in the 
 
THE LITTLE GAYS 83 
 
 middle of their bed to catch the water, and Catherine 
 had to put another bowl on the top of her trunk. 
 
 "Anyway, we can go in bathing," said Evelyn 
 hopefully. 
 
 "Not to-day, dear," said Aunt Hilda. 
 
 "But we can't get any wetter than the water gets 
 us," said Evelyn. 
 
 But Aunt Hilda, who always went with them, said 
 even she drew the line at going in bathing in such a 
 fierce northeast storm with a flock of lively children. 
 
 "Do you know," she said, as she sat down in the 
 Wests' living-room with a box full of colored adver- 
 tisements and bits of bright-colored paper, "your 
 mothers have given me authority to make you mind, 
 and I am going to make my badge this morning, and 
 you can all help me." 
 
 Evelyn and Lily brought up a little seat with arms, 
 which they were fond of sitting in. There was just 
 room for the two of them to squeeze in, and Ralph, 
 who sat behind them, began to braid their hair to- 
 gether, so that they could not be separated. He took 
 the hair on the left-hand side of Lily's head and 
 braided it into the hair on the right-hand side of Eve- 
 lyn's head, and Ldly called out, "Stop, Ralph!" but 
 he went on. 
 
 "You kids seem to want to be together all the time, 
 and I '11 fix it so you are like one person, just like the 
 Siamese Twins. Your hair is so much the same color 
 you look as if you belonged together." 
 
84 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "I don't like to be called a kid, I'm a child," said 
 Lily; and Evelyn asked who the Siamese Twins were; 
 but before any one could answer her she said, "What 
 are you making. Aunt Hilda? Why are you cutting 
 out those letters?" 
 
 "They are for my badge." 
 
 She had a white linen belt in her hand, and she 
 began to paste on it some letters that she cut out of 
 blue paper. The first letter she pasted on was a P. 
 
 "What does that stand for?" she asked. 
 
 "I don't know what letter it is," said Evelyn. 
 
 Lily looked at her with amazement, because she had 
 known how to read for more than a year, and even 
 little Rodman, who was not quite four, said, "I 
 know; it is a P." 
 
 Evelyn looked at it very hard, so she should never 
 forget it, and Lily said, "It stands for papa." 
 
 "And for peaches and pineapples," said Ralph. 
 
 "And peonies and poppies," said Patty. 
 
 "And it stands for Patty," said Jim. "Are you 
 going to put all our initials on in a row? " 
 
 "You shall see," said the Blue Aunt, and she 
 pasted a blue next the P. 
 
 Even Evelyn knew that it was an 0. 
 
 "P 0, that's the beginning of postman," said 
 Ralph. 
 
 And presently Aunt Hilda put an L next to it. 
 
 "That stands for Lily," the little girl cried. And 
 she was so pleased she got up and began to dance 
 
THE LITTLE GAYS 85 
 
 about the room, but Evelyn cried, "Ouch!" and 
 Lily had to stop. She had quite forgotten that she 
 and Evelyn were fastened together, and they hastily 
 unbraided their hair. 
 
 Evelyn said, "Isn't there going to be an £ for 
 Evelyn?" for she knew a good many of her letters. 
 
 "Wait and see," said Aunt Hilda, and she cut out 
 and pasted on an I. ^t 
 
 "That stands for all of you," she said. "It is I, 
 for I, myself." 
 
 Evelyn was so pleased at this that she said, over 
 and over: "It is an /, and it stands for I, myself. I 
 shall never forget it. It is tall and sUm like a person, 
 and it stands for I, myself." 
 
 "I know what it is going to be," said Ralph. "It 
 is going to be ' Political Boss.' Aunt HUda is going 
 to be the boss and make us all mind." 
 
 Just by way of saying something Jim remarked, 
 "She is n't your Aunt Hilda at all." 
 
 Ralph started to have a mock fight with him. Jim 
 had often said this before, and with the same result. 
 
 "It isn't going to be 'Political Boss' after all," 
 said Ralph, for Aunt Hilda was pasting on a C. 
 
 "That stands for Catherine," said Jim. 
 
 "No, it does n't," said Ralph. "Katharine begins 
 with a K." 
 
 "It does not," said Jim. "It begins with a C-a-t, 
 just like cat." 
 
 "It begins with a K-a-t" Ralph insisted. "I guess 
 
86 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 I know how Katharine is spelled, because it is my 
 mother's name." 
 
 "I can't help it," said Jim. "I guess I know how 
 Catherine is spelled, because I've seen it on the out- 
 side of lots of letters for Catherine. Does n't Cather- 
 ine begin with a C-a-t, Aunt Hilda?" 
 
 "It can begin either with a C-a-t or a K-a-t; you 
 are both right," she said. "You can remember, Eve- 
 lyn, that C stands for crescent, because it looks so 
 much like the new moon." 
 
 When Evelyn had not wanted to take the trouble 
 to learn to read, her father took her part and said: 
 "I ruined my eyes by reading when I was four years 
 old. I don't care if Evelyn does not learn until she is 
 eight." And then, a year later, he had been surprised 
 that she did not know all of her letters, for he was a 
 busy man with important law cases on his mind, so 
 he did not remember all the small family affairs. 
 
 Now Evelyn longed to read as she had never longed 
 for anything except a pussy cat. 
 
 "Oh, it is 'Police,' it is 'Police'!" Jim cried in de- 
 light, as his Aunt Hilda pasted on an E for Evelyn. 
 
 "There is more to it than that," she said, as she 
 left a space and began another word with a W. 
 
 "It is going to be 'Police Woman,' I know it is," 
 cried Patty; and "Police Woman" was just what it 
 was. 
 
 Aunt Hilda piimed the white belt with the blue 
 letters on it around her waist and said, "Whenever 
 
THE LITTLE GAYS 87 
 
 I wear this belt and tell you to do something, you 
 must do it at once." 
 
 That day at dinner, which had to be in the living- 
 room on account of the storm, the children were so 
 quiet at first that neither Mrs. Gay nor Mrs. West 
 could imagine what had happened. But as the meal 
 went on, the children forgot about the PoUce Woman, 
 and Jim and Ralph started a lively discussion as to 
 the way to sail a boat. Ralph said Jim was entirely 
 wrong. He guessed he knew about boats because he 
 had watched his father sail one all last smnmer. 
 
 And Jim said, "I know I'm right." 
 
 "You are quite wrong," said Ralph. "You always 
 think you know a lot more than you do, and for a 
 boy of your age — " 
 
 "I guess if I were your age, I'd know more about 
 boats than you do," said Jim. 
 
 Lily insisted that Ralph was right and Evelyn 
 backed up Jim, although neither of the little girls 
 knew one thing about it, and while all four were talk- 
 ing at once, Rodman said, "B stands for boat, B 
 stands for boat," over and over again. 
 
 "Aunt Hilda, I'm right, am't I?" said Ralph. , 
 
 "You must n't say 'ain't,'" said Patty. 
 
 "I can't say ' are n't I.'" 
 
 "You can say 'am I not.'" 
 
 "All right. I am right, am I not. Aunt Hilda?" 
 
 "She is n't your Aunt Hilda," began Jim. 
 
 "I don't care if she is n't. She has known me a lot 
 
88 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 longer than she has known you, and she loves me a 
 lot better." 
 
 "She doesn't." 
 
 "She does." 
 
 Then all the children joined in and the older peo- 
 ple were almost crazy with the noise. 
 
 When the uproar was the loudest the Blue Aunt 
 rose. She was tall, but now she looked much taller 
 than usual, for she was standing on the tips of her 
 toes, and she said: "According to the authority 
 conveyed to me by this badge I command that there 
 shall be instant silence. Not one child is to say 
 anything for ten minutes"; and she took out her 
 watch. 
 
 ■ The eflFect was like magic; all the children stopped 
 talking, and if it had not been for the beating of the 
 rain and the swish of the wind one could have heard a 
 pin drop. 
 
 The two mothers were so surprised they could think 
 of nothing to say, and Aunt Hilda told them how the 
 widow Gray thought she could spare three eggs for 
 them to-day, and if the rain held up Ralph and Jim 
 could go for them that afternoon. 
 
 When the children's half -hour came, they all gath- 
 ered around Aunt Hilda in the Wests' pleasant living- 
 room. She sat on the broad window-seat, and Tim 
 immediately jumped into her lap, while Hector lay 
 down at her feet. Lily and Evelyn climbed up on the 
 window-seat, one on each side of her and snuggled 
 
THE LITTLE GAYS 89 
 
 up against her, while Patty sat in a low seat close by, 
 and the boys flung themselves down at her feet. 
 
 "I am going to read you some verses I wrote this 
 afternoon," said the Blue Aunt. " They are a kind of 
 parable, and they are called — 
 THE SUN 
 
 The little Wests and little Gays 
 
 Were closest friends, and yet 
 They argued at their games and plays 
 On stormy noons and simny days 
 
 Whene'er these children met. 
 
 And when the sun sank in the West, 
 "Ha!" said the Wests' young son, 
 . "You see he likes us much the best, 
 ' He's always setting in the West 
 When the long day is done." 
 
 "Indeed you're wrong," cried a young Gay, 
 "Ho! When the day is done 
 The sunset clouds are bright and Gay, 
 They're ours, not yours; I'm bound to say 
 Clouds glorify the sun." 
 
 And so they argued all the night 
 
 And never stopped to think; 
 They had a long-continued fight. 
 And talked and talked from eve till light. 
 
 And did not sleep a wink. 
 
 And when the sun rose in the East 
 
 The Gays' son, Ralph, said, "Ho! 
 He does not like you in the least, \ 
 He loves the Gay and cheerful East, 
 He is your bitter foe." 
 
90 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 And then young West in accents loud 
 
 Said, "Ha! he is not Gay, 
 He's rising in a muiky cloud, 
 I hear a peal of thunder loud: 
 It is a dismal day." 
 
 Then spoke the sun: "At dawn of day. 
 
 Though 'neath aa angry cloud, 
 I'm always bright and warm and Gay, 
 He's right, this talkative young Gay; 
 Pray don't dispute so loud. 
 
 "And when at night I go to bed, j 
 'T is always in the West, 
 Exactly as young Jim has said. 
 You both are right," the good sun said, 
 "I love you both the best." 
 
X 
 
 The Birthday Dinner 
 
 WHENEVER any member of the West famUy 
 was so fortmiate as to have a birthday, he or 
 she always had the privilege of choosing the dinner. 
 But as Mr. West's birthday was in early August and 
 he was not coming down until the night before, the 
 family had to choose it for him, for there was no 
 butcher in Sandhurst, nor even a grocer, and so 
 meals had to be planned some time ahead. 
 
 Mrs. West said she would choose the soup, Jim 
 might choose the second course, and Evelyn the des- 
 sert. 
 
 "I wish we had a family of ten or twelve children, 
 and that every one had a birthday in a different 
 month," said Evelyn. "Birthday dinners are so 
 much nicer than other dinners." 
 
 Jim said he would choose roast chicken for his 
 course, with potatoes and summer squash and pre- 
 served plums. He was wise enough to ask for the 
 things that he knew could be got. Evelyn chose 
 strawberry ice-cream and a birthday cake with frost- 
 ing. 
 
 "My darUng child," said Mrs. West, "it is per- 
 fectly impossible to make strawberry ice-cream. I 
 
92 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 don't believe we can get the extra milk and cream, 
 and we would have to have a different flavor. And 
 as for eggs for the cake, — well, we'll see what we can 
 do. We can have lemon water-ice and crackers, if 
 worst comes to worst." 
 
 Aunt Hilda and the children set out on one of the 
 scrambling walks that she loved as much as they did, 
 across the moors and under the barbed-wire fences, 
 in search of provisions. All the children went, except 
 little Rodman; it was too far for him. 
 
 Both households had a great supply of canned food 
 sent down to them, as well as the usual groceries; but 
 the things one wants fresh, like yeast-cakes and fruit, 
 could be had only once a week, when the grocer from 
 the next large town sent his cart over. The butcher 
 came only once a week, but fish could always be ob- 
 tained from the local fishermen, if one were lucky 
 enough to get down to the beach before they had put 
 their catch in the cold-storage warehouse; and by en- 
 gaging them ahead, one could get dehcious chickens. 
 
 It was such a cloudless afternoon, and the sea and 
 sky were both so blue, that there was only a misty 
 horizon line where one melted into the other. Evelyn 
 and Lily danced and skipped with joy as they started 
 on their walk over the moors, where the paths were 
 like winding yellow ribbons as they went through the 
 coarse silvery green grass. Evelyn and Lily each 
 seized one of Aunt Hilda's hands, while Patty walked 
 as near her as she could get, and Hector frisked on 
 
THE BIRTHDAY DINNER 93 
 
 ahead with the boys. It was such a joyous afternoon 
 that no one could help being happy. 
 
 First they went to the widow Gray's for eggs. She 
 stood in the doorway of her house and talked and 
 talked as if she were a machine wound up for the 
 purpose; only a machine runs down after a time, and 
 it did not seem as if she ever would. She gave them all 
 the news of the town, before she got around to the 
 subject of eggs, and then she told them that her eggs 
 had all been engaged ahead, as she could only count 
 on six a day now. Well, seeing as it was a birthday, 
 she would save three for them and let the Westons go 
 without for once. 
 
 "I don't want you to do that," said Hilda. 
 
 "It won't hurt 'em a mite to go without for once. 
 Every one's conserving food just now, and there 
 ain't no children in that family, only grown folks. 
 You leave it to me. I'll manage; you don't need to 
 have it on your conscience, Miss. Just you send for 
 the eggs to-morrow." 
 
 "She said 'ain't,'" Ralph observed to Patty as 
 they walked on. "She's a grown-up person and she 
 says 'ain't.'" 
 
 Then they went to another house to see if they 
 could get any squashes, and an old man who was bent 
 over with rheumatism came hobbling out on his stick, 
 and said he guessed he had "a plenty," but they'd 
 have to go next door to Mrs. Caldwell's, as he and she 
 were running the garden on shares. He gave the land 
 
94 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 and she did most of the work. Evelyn got so much 
 interested in him, and felt so sorry for his lameness, 
 that she did not go on with the others to Mrs. Cald- 
 well's. She stayed with him and advised him to 
 put on sweet oil and 'monia, which Aunt Charlotte 
 used. 
 
 "Bless my soul," said the old man. "What a wise 
 little head it is! How much sweet oil and how much 
 'monia? The proportion would make some diflfer- 
 ence." 
 
 "I don't know how much, only it smells horrid and 
 makes your eyes smart, if you get near the 'monia 
 bottle when she's putting it in. Does it hurt so you 
 can't stand up straight? Could you walk without a 
 stick if you had to?" 
 
 "I might get a fall." 
 
 "I'm so sorry," said Evelyn. "They are coming 
 back with the squashes now; I guess I'll have to go, 
 but I'll come again some day and bring my Virginia 
 with me. She's my newest doll, and she has brown 
 hair and brown eyes and she opens and shuts' them 
 like a person. She 's very beautiful, and I know you 'd 
 like to see her." 
 
 "Come along, Ewy, come along," said Jim, 
 "we're going to the chicken-farm now." 
 
 They took a short cut and crawled under three 
 barbed-wire fences that had been put up on account 
 of the cattle. They found the chicken-man was ex- 
 pecting to kill o£E all his chickens on account of the 
 
THE BIRTHDAY DINNER 95 
 
 high cost of grain. Evelyn thought this a poor plan, 
 and as usual she did not hesitate to say so. 
 
 " Could n't all the chickens eat less, like people? " 
 she asked. "Then the grain would n't cost so much, 
 and there 'd be enough for all." 
 
 "Oh, Ewy," said Jim, "if you don't beat the 
 Dutch!" 
 
 They engaged a pair of chickens and stopped on 
 the way back to get the candles for the cake; this 
 meant a walk through the village with its quaint 
 houses. They went to an old warehouse that was full 
 of delightful jars of pickles and preserves that had 
 been made on the Cape. They got some of the pre- 
 served beach plums and a jar of pickles, and then 
 they went to the far side of the building where the 
 bayberry candles were made. There were all sorts of 
 them, ready to be packed in boxes; some were huge 
 and meant for a church. These were very smooth; 
 and some were rough and the right size for a candle- 
 stick, while others were very small. All, big and 
 little, smooth or rough, were of the same shade of 
 silvery green, like the bayberry leaves and the sedge 
 grass; and Evelyn thought she had never seen any- 
 thing so beautiful in her life as these candles. 
 
 "I would like to get one of those little ones to take 
 home to Nancy," she said to Aunt Hilda. 
 
 "Yes, that's her color," said her aunt; "gentle, 
 faithful Uttle Nancy is as restful and satisfactory as 
 these silvery green candles." 
 
96 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 It was impossible to put forty-two of these candles 
 on any cake, so Aunt Hilda suggested they should get 
 seven, and put four in one group and two in another, 
 and one in the center to grow on. She said she 
 was going to get one of the large church candles to 
 save to put in the window and bum at Christmas- 
 time. 
 
 The candle-place, as the children called it, was so 
 delightful they could not bear to leave it; but finally 
 Aunt Hilda said it was time to go home. She said 
 they would take a short cut along the railroad track, 
 as there would be no train for some hours. They were 
 never allowed on the railroad track unless an older 
 person was with them. Jim and Ralph skipped along 
 over the ties, and Hector followed them, while Aunt 
 Hilda and the three Kttle girls came more slowly. 
 Suddenly, as they were walking along in a leisurely 
 way they heard a whistle, and presently, above the 
 sound of the wind, was the rush of a train coming 
 rapidly toward them. Aunt Hilda's heart stood still. 
 It was a freight train she did not know about. There 
 were extra freight trains now, because they were 
 moving so many supplies for the soldiers. 
 
 "Ralph! Jim !" she called out. 
 
 Ralph had already scrambled down the bank and 
 was safe, but Jim, with Hector at his heels, was run- 
 ning toward them along the track. 
 
 "Climb down the bank and tak:e Lily," Aunt Hilda 
 said to Patty, and she was just about to swing Evelyn 
 
THE BIRTHDAY DINNER 97 
 
 down when Jim took his little sister roughly in his 
 arms and half carried her down the embankment. 
 
 Hilda made a frantic grab at Hector, and soon all 
 the party were cUnging to the steeply sloping bank 
 while the freight train thundered by with its long 
 line of cars. 
 
 "You were a brave boy to come back for Evelyn," 
 said Aunt Hilda. 
 
 "I did n't know as you could manage so many," 
 said Jim. 
 
 "We'll never walk on the railroad track again," 
 said Aunt Hilda. "No more short cuts for us." 
 
 Getting ready for the dinner was almost more fun 
 than eating it, but that was very good fun, too, and 
 it was such a joy to have their father come down. 
 They were all so grateful to have frosted cake that 
 they found no fault with lemon water-ice. Then, to 
 celebrate the day, Mr. West was able to get a strange- 
 looking carryall and a brown horse, and take the 
 party for a drive across the Cape to the open sea, with 
 its great waves, and the hghthouse, which the children 
 had always longed to explore. 
 
 Aunt Hilda and Mrs. Gay walked all the way to the 
 other side, but Mrs. West could not walk so far, so 
 she rode, and little Rodman rode all the way, but 
 the other children took turns in walking and riding. 
 
 They had a wonderful time watching the waves 
 come in, and then they started to go to the lighthouse, 
 but there was a soldier in khaki on guard, and he told 
 
98 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 them no one was allowed to go into the lighthouse any 
 more. Mr. West was quite tried when he heard this. 
 
 "Do we look like alien enemies?" he said. "Do 
 you think it would do any harm to let us in.? " 
 
 "James," said Mrs. West, "the young man is only 
 doing his duty. You are not so well known here as 
 you are at home. We'll go into that little shop and 
 buy some postal cards."i 
 
 It was rather a come-down when they had expected 
 to see the lighthouse, but the children were so thrilled 
 by the sight they saw that they soon forgot their 
 disappointment. Close by the door of the shop was 
 a real khaki tent, the first Jim had ever seen, and just 
 outside it was another soldier in khaki, and a girl in 
 a pink dress was bringing him a saucer of pink ice- 
 cream, so there must be pink ice-cream inside. 
 
 They went in and sat down at two little tables, and 
 they all had strawberry ice-cream. As they ate it 
 they watched a group of busy women who were 
 knitting khaki-colored or gray sweaters. One younger 
 woman was winding a ball of gray yarn, while a 
 bronzed young sailor boy was holding the skein for 
 her. 
 
 Everybody agreed that afternoon when they got 
 home that the birthday had been a grand success; 
 but there was more to come, for soon after sunset 
 there was the most frightful thunderstorm that the 
 younger children had ever known. They all had 
 supper together at the Wests' house, on account of 
 
THE BIRTHDAY DINNER 99 
 
 the birthday, and it was impossible for any one to 
 go home, for the rain was pelting down in torrents, 
 and the thunder was coming so close to the lightning 
 that it seemed every minute as if the house would be 
 struck. Then the rain changed to hail, which clattered 
 against the windows. When the storm first broke. 
 Aunt Hilda and Mr. West ran upstairs to shut the 
 windows. There was a pool of water on Mrs. West's 
 bed, and another on Catherine's trunk. It was very 
 exciting! And all the time it was raining and hailing 
 the moon was shining, red and angry, through the 
 storm. 
 
 "I would not beheve it if I had not seen it," said 
 Mr. West. 
 
 The storm ceased almost as suddenly as it came, 
 and Aunt Hilda said: "See how peaceful and serene 
 the moon looks now! It is a good omen for your new 
 year, James. It means whatever storms you are to 
 have, everything will come out right for you in the 
 end." 
 
XI 
 
 The Story 
 
 THE children were very sorry to have their two 
 months at the seashore come to an end, for they 
 were so fond of the little Gays, but early in Septem- 
 ber they had to go home on account of Jim's school. 
 And as soon as they were back again there was so 
 much to do that they were usually as happy as the 
 day was long. 
 
 Nancy was going to school for the first time. Her 
 mother had always been afraid to send her for fear 
 she would catch the contagious diseases from the 
 other children, but a small private school was being 
 started, and she thought the companionship with 
 other children might be good for her. Evelyn begged 
 very hard to be allowed to go, but no child was taken 
 until she knew how to read. Evelyn had learned all 
 her letters this summer, both the big ones and the 
 little ones, and a few simple words, for she had begged 
 Lily to teach them to her, and she now teased Nancy 
 to teach her to read. 
 
 Every one in town, both older people and chil- 
 dren, had become greatly interested in the Fatherless 
 Children of France, and Jim and Evelyn and Nancy 
 were eager to earn money to give them. 
 
THE STORY 101 
 
 One afternoon the little teacher had a picture- 
 book open in the Merrifields' nursery, where she was 
 teaching Evelyn her lesson, when Mr. Merrifield 
 came in. 
 
 "Father, Evelyn wants to spell cat, Jc-a-t; you 
 can't, can you.'*" 
 
 "It sounds that way to me," said Evelyn with 
 
 decision. "I said I was going to spell my cat that 
 
 way — 
 
 I have a pussy k-a-t. 
 
 And he sometimes catches a 'normous rat," — 
 
 she went on. 
 
 "He does n't," said conscientious Nancy. "He 
 can't, he's so small." 
 
 "He wiU when he gets big," said Evelyn confi- 
 dently. "Mr. Merrifield, can't I spell cat with a K? 
 Ralph Gay said his mother spelled her name with 
 a K, and if Katharine can be, I should think a cat 
 could." 
 
 "It can't," said Mr. Merrifield decidedly. "It is 
 odd, but it can't be. Spelling is one of the things that 
 is good discipline for little girls who like their own 
 way. You see it is like this, Evelyn; there have to be 
 rules about everything, so people can do good work. 
 But you can spell your kitten with a K." 
 
 "I am glad of that," said Evelyn. "Oh, Mr. Merri- 
 field, how can Nancy and I earn some money for the 
 Fatherless Children of France?" 
 
 Her brown eyes looked so wistful and appealing 
 
102 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 that Mr. Merrifield felt he must find some way at 
 once. 
 
 "How much do you want to earn?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, a lot of money. Aunt Hilda and mother are 
 trying to get all the littlest children to give twenty- 
 five cents, and children om- size to give fifty cents, 
 and the bigger-sized ones like Jim, seventy-five cents, 
 and still older ones a dollar." 
 
 "I '11 tell you what I'll do," said Mr. Merrifield. 
 "I'll pay Nancy fifty cents when she has taught you 
 to read small sentences. It is unusual to pay a 
 scholar for learning, but I '11 give you a prize of fifty 
 cents when you have learned to read these little sen- 
 tences." 
 
 . Evelyn was so pleased at this that she got up and 
 hugged Mr. Merrifield, which Nancy would never 
 have thought of doing. 
 
 "I'll never spell cat with a K, as long as I live," she 
 told him, "even when Tim, my darling kitten, gets 
 to be a cat. I thought I could spell my own cat the 
 way I liked, but I see I can't." 
 
 "No," said Mr. Merrifield; "it would be a bad 
 example to other people. If the minister's little girl 
 let you spell cat with a K, soon every child in the 
 parish would be spelling it that way, and that would 
 make a great scandal." 
 
 "I had n't thought of that," said Evelyn. 
 
 It was really surprising how fast Evelyn learned 
 to read, and she learned to print at the same time. 
 
THE STORY 103 
 
 for she was eager to make all the words she knew; 
 and she drew little pictures to explain them. They 
 were very strange little pictures, but you usually 
 knew what she meant. 
 
 One day she said to Nancy: "I'd like to write a 
 story about Tim. I mean the kitten, not the chore- 
 man. Would you write it for me if I tell you what to 
 say?" 
 
 "Yes," cried Nancy joyously. "You can dictate 
 to me, the way father does to mother when his eyes 
 are tired." 
 
 "All right," said Evelyn, "It is to be for a birth- 
 day present for Jim. And I'll make the pictures." 
 
 "I thought his birthday came in January," said 
 Nancy. 
 
 "It does, but Jim and I have agreed to have 
 monthly birthdays, so the thirteenth of every month 
 I am to have one and he is to give me a present, and 
 the twenty-ninth of every month he is to have one and 
 I am to give him a present. He did n't have any- 
 thing ready the thirteenth of September, for he forgot 
 all about it, and spent all his money, so he just gave 
 me a kiss, but that was very nice, because he does 
 not kiss people generally. So he said to make it even 
 I must not spend any money on his September 
 birthday; and, anyway, we are both saving up for 
 the Fatherless Children. So I thought I'd write a 
 little story about Tim." 
 
 "A true story?" asked Nancy. 
 
104 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "A true story," said Evelyn firmly. "It is true, 
 because he told it to me the other night when he was 
 curled up in my lap." 
 
 "It can't be true," said Nancy severely, "for cats 
 can't talk." 
 
 "He's a special kind of cat," said Evelyn. "Aunt 
 Hilda says he's human, and when he sits in my lap 
 his thoughts just skip out of his head and into 
 mine." 
 
 "They can't," said Nancy. "It is n't possible." ' 
 
 "You don't know anything about it. He is n't 
 your kitten." 
 
 "I know what can be and what can't be," said 
 Nancy. 
 
 "Well, anyway, I can pretend anything I like, for 
 it is a story." 
 
 "That is just what I said. It is a story, not a true 
 story. Tell me what to say." 
 
 "It is called 'The Kitten's Dinner,' " said Evelyn. ^ 
 
 It took Nancy some time to write it down, and 
 Evelyn decorated the sheet, with a big round circle 
 made with a yellow pencil, a smaller round circle 
 above it and two dots for eyes, two black marks 
 standing up straight for ears, and a black mark for a 
 tail. 
 
 "It might be a rabbit," said Nancy doubtfully. 
 
 "It is a kitten," said Evelyn. "It would n't be 
 called 'The Kitten's Dinner' if it was a rabbit." 
 
 "He might dine on a rabbit." 
 
THE STORY 105 
 
 "Not my kitten," said Evelyn. "He's very 'ticu- 
 lar. Please don't talk so much." 
 
 "That's what father says when mother makes sug- 
 gestions. I'll keep quiet," said Nancy. 
 
 "Once there was a little kitten and his name was 
 Tim. And every night he got into the lap of his little 
 mistress, and her name was Evelyn, and he told her 
 all the thoughts he thinked." 
 
 "Don't talk so fast," said Nancy. "I don't know 
 how to spell 'mistress.'" 
 
 Just then Aunt Hilda came in. She had been help- 
 ing Mrs. Merrifield with some War Rehef work, and 
 she said it was time for Evelyn to go home. When 
 she heard about the story she said Evelyn could dic- 
 tate the rest of it to her, and she would write some 
 rhymes to go at the end of it, and Evelyn could make 
 as many pictures as she liked with her box of colored 
 crayons. 
 
 This was the way the story read when it was fin- 
 ished: — 
 
 "Once there was a little kitten and his name was 
 Tim, and every night he got into the lap of his httle 
 mistress, and her name was Evelyn, and he told her 
 all the thoughts he thinked. And they were fimny 
 thoughts, for he was a very little kitten, and he 
 thinked a great deal about food. And he thinked of 
 all the things he liked to eat, because he was small 
 and knew no better, and they were fish and lamb, and 
 a few mice, but mostly fish, and he loved fish he told 
 
106 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 me, ]ust the way I loved oranges and grapes and 
 bananas. 
 
 "And when I asked him which he liked best, the 
 seashore or here, he said the seashore, because he 
 'most always had fish every day. And he tried eat- 
 ing other things like Aunt Hilda's khaki yarn and 
 strings, and they did not agree with him, and he said, 
 'Give me fish every day and I'll never eat khaki yam 
 any more.' 
 
 "And Mr. West, that was Evelyn's father, said the 
 fish bill would be just 'normous if we did, for his ap- 
 petite was bigger than he was. I guess that's all the 
 story I'll write this time, for I'm tired." 
 
 When the pictures were added, of a lamb and a 
 mouse and several fishes, it was a very grand story, 
 indeed, and Aunt Hilda wrote her rhymes on a sepa- 
 rate sheet. 
 
 A KITTEN'S VIEW OF FOOD CONTROL 
 
 The food controller of our State 
 
 Ordered two meatless days; 
 I'm sure the food controller's great. 
 
 His name I'll loudly praise. / 
 Two days of fish instead of one. 
 
 Oh, why not make it seven? 
 Seven days of fish would be such fun, 
 
 'T would be a kitten's heaven. 
 
XII 
 
 Jim amd the Orphans 
 
 JEM admired his father more than any other man in 
 the whole world, and he was never so happy as 
 when they went for a walk on Sunday afternoon, 
 especially when they took what Jim called "a real 
 man's walk," which was too long for his mother and 
 Evelyn. Sometimes Amit Hilda went with them, but 
 much as he liked her, he preferred having his father 
 all to himself. 
 
 He wanted to grow up just like his father, and he 
 imitated many of his ways. He wished he had a pair 
 of those big round spectacles his father wore, with the 
 dark rims to them, but he had once tried them on and 
 they made everything look so small that he foxmd 
 they would be of no use to him. It was because of his 
 devotion to his father that Jim was so stirred up over 
 the Fatherless Children of France. 
 
 "I'd like to go and kill all the people who killed 
 the orphans' fathers," he said one day to his Aunt 
 Hilda. 
 
 "If you did there would be another set of fatherless 
 children," she said. "It is one of the sad facts of war 
 that such things have to be." 
 
 "And the worst of it is," he went on gloomily. 
 
108 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "that even if the war lasts six years I sha'n't be 
 nearly of fighting age then. And I am so afraid this 
 will be the last war, and I'll never get a chance to 
 fight." 
 
 "We are fighting to make it the last war, dear. We 
 want all the nations of the world to be like one big 
 family, with the stronger ones looking out for the 
 little ones, just as you took care of Evelyn that day 
 on the railroad track. I'm so glad you want to help 
 me with my orphans." 
 
 "Can you speak French as well as you speak Eng- 
 lish.'*" he asked. 
 
 "Not quite as well. But you see I lived in France 
 till I was seven, and my father was half French, so 
 I love France as I love no other country except 
 America." 
 
 Jim was eager to earn money for the cause, but his 
 father was too busy with food-control meetings and 
 the Liberty Loan, in addition to his large law practice, 
 to have time to make any suggestions, and his Aunt 
 Hilda went oflF for a week's visit just at this time. 
 
 Then one day a bright idea came to him. He 
 thought of it one Friday in the middle of school, and 
 he could hardly wait for his lessons to be over. 
 
 As they were walking home together he confided 
 the plan to his friend, Charley Norcross. "I am go- 
 ing to pick some of our fruit and sell it for the benefit 
 of the French orphans." 
 
 "Gee! That's great!" said Charley. 
 
JIM AND THE ORPHANS 109 
 
 Charley lived in the third story of an apartment 
 house, so the idea appealed to him strongly. 
 
 "I'm sure mother 'd like to buy some of your 
 grapes and peaches," he said. "She's just crazy 
 about making jellies and preserves, and the fruit 
 costs so much at the stores." 
 
 "But I'll have to charge a big price if it is for the 
 orphans," Jim said, in his fathra-'s best manner. 
 
 "That's all right. Mother said she supposed 
 she'd have to give something to the orphans, and in 
 this way she'd have the fruit, too." 
 
 Jim's father and mother went oflF Friday after- 
 noon to be gone until Monday morning. It was the 
 anniversary of their wedding day, and they always 
 celebrated it by doing something together without 
 the children, and as their Aimt Hilda was still away 
 there was no one to ask about the fruit. 
 
 "I won't mention it to Ann and Catherine," said 
 Jim. "We'll just steal into the garden when they are 
 not looking, just as if we were bad boys, and we'U 
 get all we want before they see us. I am sure father 
 and mother won't mind, they are so crazy over the 
 orphans." 
 
 Charley was not at all sure of this, but the prospect 
 of feasting on the delicious peaches and grapes was 
 too much for him, and so early Saturday morning he 
 appeared with a fruit-basket ready for the occasion. 
 The boys stole down into the garden with Hector 
 following at their heels. They had one narrow escape. 
 
110 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 for the ash-man looked at them suspiciously when 
 they were picking the peaches, but Jim called out 
 cheerily, "It's just me, Jim West. Won't you have a 
 peach?" 
 
 So the ash-man supposed it was all right. 
 
 "Please don't tell Ann and Catherine what we are 
 doing," said Jim. "We are going to sell the fruit for 
 the benefit of the Fatheriess Children of France. 
 Mother and father are keen about them, but Ann 
 and Catherine might not understand." 
 
 "Mum is the word," said the ash-man, and Jim 
 felt he could be depended on. 
 
 It was a beautiful basket of fruit, with grapes and 
 peaches arranged by Charley, who had a good deal of 
 taste. 
 
 "They are just samples," said Charley. "People 
 can order more." 
 
 "I don't think we've made the grape jelly yet," 
 said Jim doubtfully. 
 
 Mrs. Norcross was in the kitchen when the boys 
 arrived. She did all her own work except the washing 
 and ironing, and she cooked deUcious things. There 
 was a smell of something frying which appealed to 
 Jim. 
 
 "Here's a doughnut for each of you," said Mrs. 
 Norcross, as she took two from a pile that had just 
 come hot off the stove. 
 
 "Gee! I'm glad I came here," said Jim, as he took 
 a large bite out of the doughnut. 
 
JIM AND THE ORPHANS 111 
 
 Mrs. Norcross had on a long blue-and-white-checked 
 apron with sleeves that covered her up, and her pretty 
 hair was almost as golden as Evelyn's. Jim had never 
 seen a prettier grown person. It did seem a shame to 
 make her pay for the fruit when she had been so 
 kind about the doughnuts, and Mrs. Norcross was one 
 of the friends to whom his mother sometimes sent 
 fruit as a present. 
 
 "I've brought you 'round a httle of our fruit," he 
 said. "We thought maybe you'd like some." 
 
 Mrs. Norcross did not know that the older people 
 were away, so she supposed Mrs. West had sent the 
 basket of fruit. 
 
 "Thank your mother very much. How daintily 
 she always arranges things," said Mrs. Norcross, as 
 she handed Jim another doughnut. 
 
 "We are taking orders, mother, for the benefit of 
 the French orphans," said Charley. "Do you care to 
 order any grapes for jelly? " 
 
 "Yes, I should be very glad of a peck, if you can 
 spare as many." 
 
 Jim's face fell, for he loved grape jelly. He had not 
 intended to sell all the grapes. 
 
 "I'll give you a little something to start with," 
 said Mrs. Norcross, as she handed half a dollar to 
 Jim and another to Charley. Then she went into the 
 next room and brought out a little notebook and a 
 pencil. At the top of the first page she wrote, "For 
 the Benefit of the French Orphans," and also Jim's 
 
112 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 name and Charley's. Under each of their names she 
 wrote her own and the amount she had given: "Made- 
 line B. Norcross, 50 cents." 
 
 "If you write everything down you won't get mixed 
 up about the money. You can keep the pencil," she 
 said. "What a clever idea of your father's to let you 
 earn money in this way." 
 
 Jim was about to say that the great idea was his 
 own, but Charley made signs to him. 
 
 "Mother's awful particular," he said as they went 
 down the steps of the apartment house. "Maybe 
 she'd think there was something wrong, if she knew 
 it was your plan." 
 
 He was very anxious to secure the grapes before 
 any investigation was made. 
 
 The boys stopped at a grocer's, to find out what the 
 market price of grapes was, and Charley borrowed a 
 peck measure, for one of the grocer's children was in 
 the same class with Jim and himself at the public 
 school. Mrs. Norcross paid them the market price 
 for the grapes, and a few cents over, and said she 
 would make the jelly that very afternoon, for she had 
 the good luck to have plenty of sugar and people said 
 sugar was going to be scarce. 
 
 Jim was very much disappointed about the grapes, 
 for they had had to take all there were to fill the 
 order, except two bunches which they ate themselves, 
 and he was not at all sure how the family would feel 
 when they saw the bare vines. 
 
JIM AND THE ORPHANS US 
 
 There were not enough peaches to sell in any quan- 
 tity, and the apples were not ripe yet, so after dinner 
 Jim and Charley arranged a basket of peaches and 
 Charley printed a sign on a piece of cardboard: — 
 
 Peaches for sail for the bennyfit of the French Orfans. 
 5 to 10 cents a peach. A good caws. Be Gennerous. 
 
 He was not sure about the spelling, but he thought 
 it wiser not to ask either Ann or Catherine. ' 
 
 "I think if we go where nobody knows us it will be 
 more fun," he said, and they went down a side street. 
 
 Ann and Catherine thought Jim was at Charley's 
 house, and Mrs. Norcross was quite at ease about 
 Charley, so no one was worried. 
 
 The side street was very pleasant, for it overlooked 
 a small park, and there were many women and chil- 
 dren simning themselves on the benches in the park. 
 Several of them were taking care of babies in baby 
 carriages. 
 
 "Gee!" said Charley. "There's our chance." 
 
 Nobody seemed to have heard about the French 
 orphans, but when Jim told them all he knew they 
 seemed very much impressed. Most of the women 
 had no money with them, but one of them left her 
 baby carriage in charge of a friend and crossed over 
 to her house. She came back with a quarter of a dol- 
 lar and said she supposed she could have six peaches. 
 Then she gave them to the dijBFerent women and chil- 
 dren she knew, keeping one for herself. 
 
 When Charley wanted to enter her contribution 
 
114 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 in his book she said, "Oh, never mind about my 
 name; say 'From a friend.'" 
 
 "Let's go and ask other people for fruit," said 
 Charley when the last peach was sold. "Judge Bax- 
 ter has a dandy garden. They would never miss 
 some of their apples. They'd let us have a few, I 
 know." 
 
 They were passing Nancy's house at the time, and 
 who should be skipping up the steps but Evelyn in a 
 pink cotton gown and a pink sweater. Jim thought 
 he had never seen so sweet a picture. 
 
 "She's a peach," said Charley. And indeed she did 
 look like one, with her pink cheeks and pink frock, 
 against the background of the door, which was as 
 green as the leaves of a peach. 
 
 " Come on, Evvy, and help us out," said Charley. 
 "We are selling fruit for the orphans. If you go up to 
 the Baxters' house and ask if you can have some ap- 
 ples, I'm sure nobody can resist you." 
 
 "I'll get Nancy to come with me." 
 
 "Oh, we don't want Nancy," the boys said 
 hastily. 
 
 They had to go to the grocer's and borrow two large 
 baskets, and the boys waited at the foot of the garden 
 while Evelyn went to the Baxters' house. 
 
 She was a Uttle frightened after she had pulled 
 the doorbell. 
 
 A pleasant-looking maid in a black dress and a white 
 apron came to the door. 
 
JIM AND THE ORPHANS 115 
 
 "Could I see Mrs. Baxter?" asked Evelyn. 
 
 "Mrs. Baxter is out. Will you leave a message 
 with me?" 
 
 Evelyn looked so sweet that the maid wanted to 
 hug and kiss her, for she had little sisters at home. 
 
 "Is Judge Baxter in?" asked Evelyn. 
 
 "No, he is out too." 
 
 "I guess you'll do just as well. It's about the or- 
 phans." 
 
 "The orphans?" 
 
 "Yes, the French ones. My father, he's Mr. West, 
 the lawyer, is getting money for them, and my 
 brother, James West, Jr., is helping him. He'd like 
 just a little fruit to sell for them." 
 
 "Why does n't he come up and speak for himself 
 instead of sending a baby like you? " 
 
 "I don't know. He and Charley Norcross are 
 down in the garden." 
 
 The pleasant young maid went along the garden 
 walk with Evelyn. 
 
 "I'm sure Judge Baxter would not mind your hav- 
 ing a few of his early apples," she said, "but not 
 those great baskets full." 
 
 She sat down on a bench to watch the boys. 
 
 "You can pick up all the windfalls you find on the 
 ground," she told them. 
 
 As they were walking home Charley said, "Let's 
 go right back and fill our baskets with the good ap- 
 ples from the trees." ^ 
 
116 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "That would n't be fair," said Jim. "She was so 
 nice I'd hate to get her into trouble." 
 
 "She told us we could have some apples," said 
 Charley. "It is for the good of the cause. We can 
 never sell these old windfalls, except to the poor, and 
 they can't give us much for them. I'm sure Judge 
 Baxter would be glad to give them to us. He's such 
 a great friend of your father's, and when my father 
 was alive he was in his oflSce." 
 
 They had wonderful luck in getting away without 
 being caught. Jim felt very mean, but he comforted 
 himself with thinking about the French orphans, and 
 Evelyn enjoyed the adventure. Whatever Jim did 
 was right in her eyes. 
 
 They sold all their apples and nobody asked too 
 many questions; and when they counted up their 
 money at the end of the day they had the big sum of 
 five dollars and sixteen cents. 
 
 As they left the borrowed baskets at the grocer's, 
 Charley said, "Let's go into the drug-store and get 
 three sodas and a stick of candy with the sixteen 
 cents, and then the money will come out just even." 
 
 "But it is n't our money," said Jim. 
 
 "We have got to pay ourselves for our time and 
 work," said Charley. "Sixteen cents is very little to 
 take for such a hard day's work." 
 
 This reasoning appealed to Evelyn, who had never 
 had a glass of soda water. The children were hot and 
 tired, and the soda water looked very delicious, as 
 
JEM AND THE ORPHANS 117 
 
 they saw people sitting on stools and sipping glasses 
 of it. 
 
 Jim still felt a little doubtful, but Charley, who 
 was older than Jim and had -charge of the money, 
 went in and ordered three glasses of soda water. 
 
 "What flavors do you want?" he asked. 
 
 "Can I have strawbeny.?" said Evelyn, with 
 shining eyes. 
 
 "I'll take chocolate," said Jim; and Charley chose 
 pineapple. 
 
 The fizzy soda water made Evelyn cough, and she 
 spilled a Uttle on the white guimpe of her pink frock. 
 She was sorry she had chosen strawberry, for it made 
 such a bright stain that Ann would be sure to notice 
 it. 
 
 They spent the other cent in buying a long stick 
 of candy, which they divided in three pieces. 
 
 Jim and Evelyn were tired but happy when they 
 got home. It had been a wonderful day. 
 
 "Evelyn West, where have you been.''" Ann asked, 
 as the two children came into the house. "You were 
 so late I telephoned to Mrs. Merrifield's and I found 
 you weren't -there, and I've been telephoning all 
 over the neighborhood about you." 
 
 "She was safe with me," said Jim, with dignity. 
 "I guess I can look after my little sister." 
 
 "You bad boy! I don't know what you've been up 
 to. I telephoned to Mrs. Norcross, thinking Evelyn 
 might be there with you, and I found you were n't 
 
118 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 either of you there. Come, now, you may as well tell 
 me. Where on earth have you been?" 
 
 Jim was a truthful boy, but this seemed one of the 
 times when "silence was golden," to quote a favorite 
 phrase of his father's. He did not answer. 
 
 "Evelyn West, what have you been up to?" Ann 
 asked. 
 
 Evelyn did not want to get Jim into trouble. 
 "Jim saw me going to Nancy's house," she said, 
 "and so I went on a little walk with him." 
 
 "Where did you walk to?" Ann asked sternly, 
 "and what is that pink spot on your guimpe?" 
 
 "A pink spot?" Evelyn asked, opening her brown 
 eyes wide. "Why should there be a pink spot? How 
 funny!" 
 
 Just then Catherine came in, and she said in dis- 
 tress: "What do you suppose has happened? Some 
 of those bad village boys have got in and stolen all our 
 grapes and the best of the peaches! I thought the 
 grapes would not be ripe enough to use until next 
 week, so I did n't pick them. Now I wish I had. The 
 little rascals! They say they are going to make an 
 example of some of them and take them into court. 
 I am as sure as I can be of anything that it was those 
 Mahoney twins." 
 
 Jim was feeling more and more uncomfortable. 
 "I am sure it was n't the Mahoneys," he said. 
 
 "Well, I feel terribly! I ought to have gone down 
 into the garden, but Hector was out there and I 
 
JIM AND THE ORPHANS 119 
 
 thought he'd bark if any stranger came, and I was 
 busy cleaning my room. I have n't had a chance to 
 do it since I got home." 
 
 "Your father loves those grapes and peaches as he 
 loves his eye-teeth," said Ann. "I just tremble to 
 think what he'll say when he gets home." 
 
XIII 
 
 The HomerComing 
 
 IT was a little before supper-time when the Wests 
 got home. They walked up from the station, so it 
 was nearer to go the back way. 
 
 "What a wonderful trip we've had, James!" said 
 Mrs. West, with shining eyes. "It was even nicer 
 than our first wedding journey, because now we have 
 the children to come home to." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. West, and he kissed her, and as 
 he was not much more given to kissing people than 
 Jim was, it was a great event. 
 
 "Let's go up through the garden and see how the 
 peaches and grapes are getting on. Why, Sadie!" he 
 cried sharply, "the best of the peaches are gone, and 
 there is n't a grape left, — not one, do you hear? " he 
 thundered. 
 
 "James, I am so sorry, but really it is n't my fault." 
 
 "Of course not. But who can have taken them? 
 I'll bet you anything it is those Mahoney twins. They 
 are pests! They are to be brought up before Judge 
 Baxter the next time they are caught. Ann! Cath- 
 erine!" he called out as he stamped into the house, 
 " why did n't you keep watch over the garden? I can't 
 be gone five minutes that something does n't happen." 
 
THE HOME-COMING 121 
 
 Just then the telephone rang and Ann went to 
 answer it. 
 
 "Judge Baxter wants to speak to you over the 
 telephone, Mr. West," she said. "He called you up 
 Saturday evening, but I told him you were out of 
 town." 
 
 Jim felt very miserable. He could not hear what 
 the judge was saying, but he could guess. 
 
 "The rascals! The impudent scoimdrels!" said his 
 father. "No doubt it is the Mahoney twins. What! 
 My children? Mine.'' Impossible! Evelyn? Yes, I 
 think you 're right. It must have been some one else. 
 French orphans! I don't know anything about it. 
 I '11 ask him." And he hung up the receiver and came 
 hastily into the sitting-room. 
 
 "What is this about your stealing Judge Baxter's 
 apples? " he asked. 
 
 And Jim felt that the Judgment Day had come. 
 
 "I said I knew you could n't have stolen them. I 
 said it must have been the Mahoney twins. Now, 
 tell me the truth." 
 
 Jim grew very red. "It was n't the Mahoney twins, 
 father. It was me. It did n't seem like stealing, be- 
 cause we sold them for the French orphans, and the 
 girl told us we could have some, only we took a lot 
 more after she'd gone. She only meant us to take the 
 windfalls. And we made quite a lot of money on the 
 fruit. First I sold our grapes and peaches — " 
 
 "It was you who took our grapes and peaches?" 
 
122 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "Yes, father," said Jim miserably. "I thought as 
 it was for the orphans you would n't mind." 
 
 "You knew I would mind," said his father sternly. 
 "You can go and get the grapes back and take the 
 money back. Do you hear? " 
 
 "I can't, father. It was Mrs. Norcross, and she's 
 got them all made into jelly by this time." 
 
 "Mrs. Norcross! So Charley had a hand in this. 
 I might have known it. Well, it's bad enough to 
 steal your father's fruit, my boy, but when it comes 
 to my son robbing Judge Baxter's orchard, it is a lit- 
 tle too much. And I have to try an important case 
 before him next week. Don't you speak to me, you 
 little savage! Goright upstairs to bed! You need n't 
 wait for your supper." 
 
 Jim had never been so wretched in his life. His 
 father had never been so angry with him before. His 
 pleasant, cheerful world seemed crumbling to pieces. 
 He had known all day that he had been doing wrong, 
 but it had not seemed so very wrong to him because 
 of the orphans, and his father did not seem to take 
 them into account. And the worst of it was he was 
 afraid his father would not let him give the five dol- 
 lars to Aunt Hilda for the orphans. Dear Aimt Hilda, 
 she was just coming in at the front door now. 
 
 "Why, what is the matter?" said Aunt Hilda, as 
 she looked from her brother's excited face to Jim's 
 miserable one. The poor child was trying to keep 
 back his tears. 
 
THE HOME-COMING 123 
 
 "The matter is that my son has been stealing all 
 my fruit and some of Judge Baxter's." 
 
 Aunt Hilda's blue eyes looked very troubled. But 
 instead of saying, "You bad boy," she went straight 
 over to where Jim was standing, and putting her arm 
 around him she said, "I am so sorry, dear; tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 Jim felt a sense of passionate gratitude to her for 
 standing by him when he was in disgrace. A lump 
 came into his throat, and for a moment he could not 
 speak. 
 
 "It was for the orphans," said Evelyn. "We got 
 five dollars and sixteen cents for your orphans. Aunt 
 Hilda, and we only kept sixteen cents ourselves." 
 
 "You kept sixteen cents of money you begged for 
 the orphans.'' " said his father. "That is downright 
 dishonest! It is getting money on false pretenses." 
 
 Jim said nothing. He had turned very white. 
 
 "That's the sort of thing, my boy, that lands a 
 man in State's Prison later on. That's the way 
 swindlers begin. I did not think my boy would spend 
 money, given him for a cause, on himself." 
 
 " Charley said sixteen cents was very little for a 
 day's pay," said Evelyn. 
 
 "So it was Charley's idea spending the money? 
 Why did n't you tell me that before? " 
 
 "Because I had the soda water, too, and part of 
 the stick of candy." 
 
 "You have a legal mind, Jim. I am sure you'll be 
 
124 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 a lawyer later on. Well, I am glad you are not a tell- 
 tale. That is a fault that is very hard to cure. And 
 you can take sixteen cents out of your bank and give 
 it to Aunt Hilda." 
 
 His father had calmed down. He did not under- 
 stand just why. 
 
 "It is awkward about Judge Baxter's apples," 
 Mr. West said. "For I suppose they were sold to 
 different people, so there is no chance of getting 
 them back." 
 
 "To lots of different ones," said Evelyn. "I guess 
 they are mostly eaten by now. It was such fun to see 
 the children beginning on them! And Ann can never 
 say again I'm the dirtiest child in town, 'cause I'm 
 not. There's lots as dirty as me." 
 
 "I suppose you ate a few yourselves," said Mr. 
 West. 
 
 "We sampled them," Jim admitted, "and we ate 
 two big bunches of our grapes and a few peaches." 
 
 He looked at his father with a "now do your worst" 
 expression. He had made a full confession and 
 pleaded "Guilty." 
 
 "Now, go right upstairs to bed," said his father, 
 but he no longer spoke in that angry voice. 
 
 "I think the best way we can arrange with Judge 
 Baxter," said his sister Hilda, "is for Jim and me to 
 go over there to-morrow. I want to return Mrs. 
 Baxter's call, and Jim owes Judge Baxter an apology, 
 and while he is telling him how sorry and ashamed 
 
THE HOME-COMING 125 
 
 he is, I will read Mrs. Baxter some of my letters from 
 France about the work there. You can send the judge 
 some of your apples, James, when they are ripe." 
 
 She went out into the entry to telephone to the 
 Baxters' to make the appointment; and as Jim's door 
 was open he could hear what she was saying. 
 
 "Yes, it really was Jim and Evelyn. They did very 
 wrong to take fruit they knew they had no right to 
 touch. But if you could see how sorry Jim is, and 
 how he owned up like a man, I know you would for- 
 give him. It was a great temptation, for they were 
 so eager to earn money for my French orphans. And 
 those children, with Charley Norcross's help, actu- 
 ally earned five dollars and sixteen cents. Could you 
 and Mrs. Baxter see Jim and me for a few minutes 
 to-morrow afternoon.'' Jim wants to make an apology 
 to you, and I want to read Mrs. Baxter my last letters 
 from France. Of course, my brother will be glad to 
 make you any compensation for the apples that you 
 like, or give you some of his when they are ripe. What? 
 Oh, how good you are! That is too generous! How 
 wonderful!" 
 
 She came straight upstairs to Jim's room. 
 
 He was crying, and she pretended not to notice it. 
 
 "Jim, dear," she said, "there is one thing that can 
 happen when we do wrong when we are very young. 
 We need never do that wrong thing again. You have 
 learned a lesson about stealing, and I am sure who- 
 ever else lands in prison it won't be you." 
 
126 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 Jim longed to give her a good hug, but he did noth- 
 ing of the sort. 
 
 "Your father gave you the best kind of punish- 
 ment, for you will have a long time to think over 
 what you did, because it is so early. But I want you 
 to have one pleasant piece of news to think about, 
 too. Judge Baxter says he forgives you for taking the 
 apples, and he and Mrs. Baxter will be glad to see us 
 to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock. But, Jim, this 
 is the splendid bit of news. Judge Baxter has promised 
 to give me fifty dollars for my French orphans!" 
 
XIV 
 
 The Letter from France 
 
 JIM was the first of the family to see the outside of 
 the letter that brought such disturbing news, just 
 as he had been the first to see the one that had led to 
 Aunt Hilda's coming to them. This time he met the 
 postman at the front door one afternoon. It was not 
 the delightful postman who used to go past the kitchen 
 window and linger for a talk with Catherine, but a 
 much older man, who went about his business in a 
 grave, silent manner; for the war had brought many 
 changes. The postman had enlisted, and so had Tim, 
 the chore-man, so there was now no confusion between 
 him and Tim, the kitten. There had been a fortnight 
 without any chore-man, when Mr. West had to bring 
 up coal and wood and make a furnace fire. This was 
 a joyous period to Jim, for his father let him carry up 
 a stick or two of wood at a time, or some kindlings. 
 But now they had a new chore-man, who was so old 
 they always called him "Mr. Ryan," although his 
 first name was Thomas, for Jim asked him what it 
 was. 
 
 The postman, without a word, handed Jim a letter 
 in a thin envelope with a strange stamp. 
 
 "It is a letter from France!" cried Jim. But the 
 
128 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 postman had already moved on, as if a letter from 
 France was the same to him as one from Boston. And 
 yet no letter had ever caused more consternation in 
 the household than this one was to cause. 
 
 Jim was sure the letter was from the lady to whom 
 Aunt Hilda had sent the money for the French or- 
 phans. So he ran upstairs to his aunt's room, where 
 she and his mother and Evelyn were sitting, while 
 the kitten was frisking about, trying to decide which 
 lap he hked best. He settled down in Mrs. West's 
 first. This was agreeable in some ways, for she was 
 knitting a khaki sweater, and it was warm and soft, 
 and it was great fun to play with the brown ball; but 
 when he knocked it off on the floor and then bit oflF 
 the worsted close to the sweater, Mrs. West rose sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "You bad, mischievous, objectionable pussy!" she 
 said. "I can't work with you in the room." And 
 she folded up the sweater and put it in her knitting- 
 bag. 
 
 "But mother," said Evelyn, "darling pussy knows 
 no better. Khaki yarn to him is just like molasses 
 candy to us. Come, pussy, and sit in my lap." 
 
 He tried it, but there were drawbacks to this, too, 
 for Evelyn never sat still more than two minutes at 
 a time; and besides, her lap was very small. So he 
 jumped down and had just settled himself comfort- 
 ably in Aunt Hilda's lap when Jim came into the room. 
 
 "Here's a letter from France!" he cried. 
 
THE LETTER FROM FRANCE 129 
 
 Aunt Hilda was reading aloud, and she closed the 
 book so suddenly that the kitten jumped down and 
 went over to the window-seat. This was a tried friend 
 that never disappointed him. 
 
 Aunt Hilda opened the letter, and looked very- 
 grave as she read it. 
 
 "What does the lady say about the money you 
 sent?" asked Jim. 
 
 "There has n't been time for it to get there. This 
 is about something else. This is from the same 
 friend. She wants me to come over and help her with 
 the work. She has a place for me at last." 
 
 "Oh, but we can't let you go," said Mrs. West. 
 "James and I were talking it over last night. We both 
 said we hoped you would live with us always. You 
 are the dearest sister that ever was, and the sweetest 
 aunt, and the most wonderful mother's helper and 
 governess all in one. James and I said we thought it 
 was too much to have all this for nothing, and we felt 
 we should like to give you a salary so you could feel 
 entirely independent." 
 
 The tears came into Hilda's eyes. She went over 
 and put her arm aroimd her sister-in-law. 
 
 "What a dear you are, Sadie!" she said. "I am 
 sure nobody ever had an own sister more devoted and 
 generous. If I had been choosing a sister out of the 
 whole world, I could not have picked out any one 
 more to my taste. But you see it is this way. You 
 remember when I wrote to you last spring I told you 
 
130 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 I had a plan for the autumn. This was it. I wanted to 
 see my own people first, and then go over and work 
 with my friends in the reconstruction work among 
 the women and children in France. When my father 
 died and my happy world went to pieces, I wanted to 
 do some work for some one else, and now the chance 
 has come." 
 
 "But you need n't take it," said Mrs. West. "Some 
 one else could take your place over there, and no one 
 in the wide world could take your place with us." 
 
 "Yes, I believe that is true," Hilda said slowly. 
 "Life is a strange thing. We want something so 
 much, and when we can have it, — I never thought 
 I could have a happy, ready-made world just for the 
 asking, like what you have given me. And yet — I 
 know I could do the other work, and the chance has 
 come." 
 
 "Think it over, dear; don't decide hastily. It seems 
 to me as if your place is here." 
 
 Aunt Hilda was very grave all the evening, as if 
 she were trying to make up her mind, and she kissed 
 Evelyn twice when she went upstairs to bed with her 
 mother, and when it was time for Jim to go she kissed 
 him. This was unusual. He pretended not to Uke it, 
 but he did. 
 
 Jim's room was over the sitting-room, and he was 
 sure she was talking about her plan, for he could 
 hear voices, first hers, and then his father's, getting 
 louder and louder. His door was open a crack into the 
 
THE LETTER FROM FRANCE 131 
 
 entry, and presently he heard the sitting-room door 
 open. (, 
 
 "I'll never think you are right, never, never!" his 
 father said. "Our children have more claim on you 
 than all the French orphans put together." 
 
 "But so few are wanted over there now, and it is 
 such a wonderful chance; and I planned for it last 
 spring before I came to you." 
 
 "That makes no difference. It is a crazy plan!" 
 
 She was coming up the stairs now, and Jim got out 
 of bed and pattered along the entry in his bare feet 
 to meet her. "^ 
 
 "Aunt Hilda, are you going away?" he asked. 
 
 She told him to get back into bed, and then she sat 
 down on the foot of his bed, and rolled herself up in 
 the comforter. 
 
 "Dearest," she said, "I think you cantmderstand, 
 even if your father catf t, for you would like to go to 
 France and fight if you were old enough. Now, I 
 want to help, too. And this chance has come. But 
 I am so happy here with all of you that I almost wish 
 it had not come. I almost think your father is right, 
 and that it is my duty as well as my pleasure to stay 
 with you." 
 
 "I don't know how we'd get on without you," said 
 Jim. "And mother needs you so much, too." 
 
 "That is what your father said. And yet I was so 
 eager last spring to get the chance, and now I have it. 
 It seems to me that not to go to France now would 
 
132 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 be like a soldier who was drafted claiming exemption 
 for a reason that did not hold. To let some one go in 
 my place would be to shirk. And so," said Aunt Hilda, 
 in her sweet, grave voice, " I have decided to go, 
 and I know you will understand." 
 
 A lump came into Jim's throat. His aunt took his 
 hand in hers, and he gripped it. It seemed as if his 
 heart were breaking. • 
 
 "I — I guess I understand," he said. 
 
 Jim's mother understood, too, which was a great 
 comfort to Hilda; but little Evelyn could not see why 
 Aunt Hilda was going. 
 
 She cried bitterly when she heard the news, and 
 Evelyn did not cry easily. "What did you come at 
 all for, just to go away again.?" she said reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 "Oh, but Aimt Hilda is coming back again, per- 
 haps in six months. Darling child, don't you want her 
 to go over and work with her friends to help the poor 
 little children who haven't any fathers.''" 
 
 "No, I don't," said Evelyn. 
 
 "But, dearest," her mother went on, "you know 
 how much you like the French orphans." 
 
 "I hate the French orphans!" said Evelyn unex- 
 pectedly. "For they are taking Aunt Hilda away from 
 us." 
 
 "But she is coming back again," said Jim. "She's 
 only promising to go for six months. And the war may 
 be over before that." 
 
THE LETTER FROM FRANCE 133 
 
 "It may last for six years," said Evelyn. "You 
 said it might." 
 
 "And meanwhile," said Aunt Hilda, "I am going 
 to stay with you imtil the day after Thanksgiving, 
 so we '11 have time to be as merry a^s possible for nearly 
 a month. And if Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Mattie 
 and the children come here for Thanksgiving, think 
 what fun that will be!" 
 
 So Evelyn dried her eyes and began to look forward 
 lo Thanksgiving. 
 
XV 
 
 The Thanksgiving Candle 
 
 GETTING ready for Thanksgiving was almost as 
 much fmi as the day itself, and Evelyn spent a 
 great deal of time in the kitchen, both at her own 
 house and at Nancy's, watching the dehcious pies 
 that were being made, and sometimes getting a taste 
 of the interesting mixtures. 
 
 "They are having mock mince-meat at Nancy's 
 house," she told Catherine. "It is made of green 
 tomatoes, and it tastes just as nice as nice can be. 
 Why don't you make yours of green tomatoes?" 
 
 "There are a few other things in it besides green 
 tomatoes," said Catherine, "and I like my own way 
 best. Look out! Your mother does n't want you eat- 
 ing mince-pie meat. Goodness gracious, the kitten is 
 up on the table again! I'll have to put you both out 
 of the kitchen." 
 
 "That is what Maria said at Nancy's house," said 
 Evelyn, smacking her lips, "and I told her that you 
 were always so good-natured and loved children and 
 never minded what we did. It is nicer than mock 
 mince pie, Catherine, it truly is. Catherine, don't 
 you think Thanksgiving is the nicest day in the whole 
 year, 'cept Christmas?" 
 
THE THANKSGIVING CANDLE 135 
 
 "I might if I had anything to be thankful about." 
 "But, Catherine, everybody has something to 
 be thankful about. Mother said so. And Aunt 
 Hilda is going to light the green candle Thanksgiv- 
 ing m'ght, the big fat one she got at North Sand- 
 hurst; and we are going to put it in the window, 
 'cause she won't be here Christmas Eve. Aunt Hilda 
 says, — 
 
 'A Bayberry Candle 
 Burned to the Socket, 
 Brings Luck to the House. 
 Food to the Larder, 
 And Gold to the Pocket.' 
 
 Did you ever hear that, Catherine?" 
 
 "No, I never did." 
 
 "Well, I never did imtil Aunt Hilda taught it to me. 
 She says on Thanksgiving Day we are all to think 
 what we are thankful about, and I am thankful if any 
 Tim had to go it was the chore-man and not the 
 kitten, are n't you, Catherine? " 
 
 "Well, you see, Tim, the chore-man, was of more 
 use to me," said Catherine. "He was an especially 
 kind friend of mine, and so was the postman, and with 
 both of them gone and my brother at the war it makes 
 a sad Thanksgiving for me." 
 
 "Dear Catherme," said Evelyn, and she put her 
 arm around Catherine's neck, "you've got me." 
 
 "Yes, bless your heart," said Catherine. "You 
 are my httle comfort. You bad kitten!" And she 
 
136 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 took the pussy off the table again, and began gently 
 ■ stroking him. "I shall have to put you upstairs." 
 
 "There's another thing to be thankful for," said 
 Evelyn. "When they come down from the farm they 
 are going to bring a turkey with them. Are n't you 
 thankful we are going to have a turkey for dinner, 
 Catherine?" 
 
 "I shall be more thankful when I get it cooked." 
 
 "They are only to have chickens at Nancy's house," 
 Evelyn went on, "'cause turkeys are so expensive, 
 and being a minister Nancy's father thought he ought 
 not to have a turkey. I am glad my father is not a 
 minister, and if the turkey is a present it does not cost 
 anything. Oh, Catherine, it seems as if I could n't 
 wait for Thanksgiving Day to come! and I'm just 
 crazy for a snowstorm. I'm just longing and longing 
 for snow. Mother says that is n't the kind of a thing 
 to pray about, 'cause God could n't make it snow to 
 suit all the -little children who want it, and yet not 
 snow for all the people who want bare ground. But 
 I long and long for a snowstorm, just as I longed and 
 longed for a pussy cat, and he came, and perhaps the 
 snowstorm will." 
 
 And it did. Just the day before Thanksgiving the 
 snowy flakes began to come down, and they powdered 
 the road thick and white, and they powdered the fir 
 trees, and covered the hlac bush with white. Evelyn 
 hopped and skipped for joy, and she said, "There'll 
 be sleighing Thanksgiving Day!" 
 
THE THANKSGIVING CANDLE 137 
 
 It was a very exciting time, for in the afternoon, 
 while it was still snowing fast, the family from the 
 farm arrived. 
 
 Mr. West met them at the station, and they all 
 came up in a big covered sleigh. Amit Mattie was 
 the first to come into the house, and it was snowing 
 so fast that she had to shake the white flakes off her 
 cloak, although she had only walked from the gate 
 to the front door. She carried a large basket, and when 
 it was opened in the kitchen there was the turkey in- 
 side all ready to be cooked, and around the turkey 
 were turnips and onions from the farm. Aunt Char- 
 lotte looked very dignified and proper as she carried 
 a dress-suit case that she refused to hand over to any 
 one else. It was full of jars of different kinds of pre- 
 serves packed in hay so that they would not get 
 broken. Next came Harry, staggering under a huge 
 dress-suit case; when it was opened, Evelyn saw that 
 there were squashes in it, cut in pieces so they would 
 fit in, and also a cabbage and enough potatoes for a 
 Thanksgiving dinner. 
 
 Lottie came next with another bag that held some 
 deUcious pats of butter from the farm, and Prue tried 
 to carry a jug of cider that was waiting on the brick 
 walk for some one to take. 
 
 "Why did n't you pack a box and send all these 
 things down by express.'' " Mr. West asked, as he put 
 the jug of cider on the kitchen table. 
 
 "James West!" said Aunt Mattie. "That shows 
 
138 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 how little you know about country expresses in war- 
 times! The things might not have arrived imtil next 
 week and been frozen on the way. So we packed our 
 clothes in trunks and carried our provisions by hand. 
 It is bad enough not to have all of you with us at the 
 farm as we first planned, but it would be ten times 
 worse if we could not give you some of the products of 
 the farm. And you are really going to France, Hilda? 
 I admire your spirit. How I wish I were going with 
 you!" 
 
 Evelyn had one of her bright ideas. "Couldn't 
 you go instead of Aunt Hilda? " she asked. "We need 
 her so much." 
 
 But for some reason no one seemed to think this 
 plan could be carried out. 
 
 It stopped snowing some time in the night, and the 
 children waked to a white world on which the sun 
 shone so brightly that there were myriads of glitter- 
 ing stars on trees and shrubs. 
 
 First, everybody went to church just as if it were 
 Sunday, and as there were ten people they filled two 
 pews; then came the Thanksgiving dinner, which was 
 the best dinner Evelyn had ever eaten; and after- 
 wards a big pung came around to the door with two 
 horses, and the children and grown people piled in and 
 went for a sleigh-ride into the country. Mrs. West 
 stayed at home with Aunt Charlotte, who did not feel 
 equal to the cold ride, so there was room for Nancy 
 Merrifield and Charley Norcross. Evelyn was bliss- 
 
THE THANKSGIVING CANDLE 139 
 
 fully happy as she curled down between her Aunt 
 Hilda and Nancy. They drove through the pine and 
 fir woods, where the green showed through the white, 
 and they drove through Uttle villages where children 
 were out with their sleds. When they turned to come 
 back it was beginning to grow dark, and there was a 
 lovely pink light in the sky, and the towers and spires 
 of churches stood out gray against it, and the street 
 lamps were lighted, and it all seemed like a beautiful 
 new world, familiar and yet strange. 
 
 As they drove up to the door on their return, there, 
 in one of the front windows, was the large bayberry 
 Thanksgiving candle, Ughted and sending out its 
 cheerful beams into a cold world. The room looked 
 so pleasant as they glanced in, with a bright fire burn- 
 ing on the hearth, and Aunt Charlotte and Mrs. West 
 sitting there with their knitting, that nobody minded 
 that the sleigh-ride was over. 
 
 Nancy stayed to supper and was to spend the 
 night, for she and Evelyn had always spent Thanks- 
 giving night together ever since they were tiny tots. 
 
 After supper all the family, big and httle, sat in the 
 room where the Thanksgiving candle was burning, 
 and Aunt Hilda said : — 
 
 "Now we will each say what has given us especial 
 pleasure to-day. We'll begin with Evelyn, because 
 she is the youngest." 
 
 "Have I got to say just one thing? 'Cause there 
 are lots of them." 
 
140 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 "As you are the youngest you can be thankful for 
 three things, but every one else must say only one 
 thing." 
 
 "I'm thankful for the snow and the lovely sleigh- 
 ride and the turkey and — " 
 
 "That's three things," said Jim. 
 
 "Only two. The sleigh-ride and the snow are one; 
 and I'm thankful Prue is here for Thanksgiving." 
 
 "Aren't you thankful I'm here?" asked Harry. 
 
 Evelyn stopped to think. "Yes, I'm thankful you 
 all came, only I supposed I had to pick out one per- 
 son. But there's two here younger than me. Aunt 
 Hilda," Evelyn said, as she stroked the kitten's back. 
 He was curled up on the table imder the lamp, and 
 Hector was lying at Jim's feet. 
 
 "It's Tim's first Thanksgiving Day," said Evelyn, 
 as she put her ear down close to the pussy. "He's 
 thinking things," she said, "and I'm listening to what 
 he thinks. He's thankful he does n't live at Ginger's 
 house." 
 
 "Why?" asked Nancy. 
 
 "'Cause Ginger can't lie on tables and skip round 
 on mantelpieces. What's Hector saying to you, 
 Jim?" 
 
 "He says he's thankful he did n't have to go to 
 church on Thanksgiving Day." 
 
 "He missed a great deal," said Mrs. West. "Mr. 
 Merrifield gave us a very fine sermon." 
 
 They all made merry over the different things they 
 
THE THANKSGIVING CANDLE 141 
 
 were thankful for, which were most of them said to 
 make the others laugh, for nobody wanted to be too 
 serious on Aunt Hilda's last evening. 
 
 When it came to Aunt Charlotte, the oldest, she 
 said, "I am thankful that in this year of fiery trial 
 for the coimtry, I have learned to know and love my 
 dear niece, Hilda." 
 
 So everybody was serious just at the last; and then 
 the three httle girls had to go off to bed. They were 
 to sleep together, width way, in the old-fashioned 
 four-poster bed in the second-best spare room, which 
 was the only bed in the house that was wide enough. 
 All three of the children wanted to sleep in the mid- 
 dle, so Aunt Hilda finally drew lots, and it was Nancy 
 who had the coveted place. 
 
 Aunt Hilda had brought up the green candle and 
 put it in the window, and the cheerful light shone 
 out into the dark night, and every one who passed 
 outside thought what happy people lived in the 
 house; and it was true, although now that the end 
 of Aunt Hilda's visit had come every one was feeling 
 sad. 
 
 She looked so sweet as she sat there in the candle- 
 light that the children could not bear to think she was 
 going to leave them the nes± day. She was to start 
 so early the next morning that she said she would not 
 go downstairs again, and she had shpped on her blue 
 dressing-gown. Her dark hair was braided in one thick 
 braid for the night, and was hanging down her back, 
 
142 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 and her blue eyes looked full of sweetness and light. 
 The children would always think of that picture of 
 their dear Blue Aunt, until she came back to them 
 from across the sea. 
 
 After they had said their prayers, Nancy said, 
 "Won't you say a prayer too, Miss Hilda?" 
 
 She drew her chair up to the bed, and her short 
 prayer was one that made them all want to be good 
 and helpful while she was away. 
 
 After Jim and Harry came up to bed she went into 
 their room. She knew Jim would miss her more than 
 Evelyn would, for he was older, and, besides, he had 
 not so many friends. 
 
 "I shall go so early in the morning that you boys 
 won't be up," she said. "So I'll say good-bye to- 
 night." 
 
 "I'll be up," Jim said in an odd voice, and she sus- 
 pected that the tears were not far away. 
 
 "Jim," she said, "I have this blank book I'm go- 
 ing to give you, so you can paste in all the interest- 
 ing things about the orphans, and I'll write to you 
 very often." 
 
 "I wish I could go with you. Aunt Hilda. I wish I 
 was a French orphan." 
 
 "Oh! no, dear, you could n't be spared. I depend 
 on you to look after your mother and see she does n't 
 do too much. I may not stay longer than six months; 
 that will not be long in passing; but whether the time 
 is longer or shorter, I hope you boys will both of you 
 
THE THANKSGIVING CANDLE 14S 
 
 do your best, so I shall be proud of you vdien I come 
 back." 
 
 And before Aunt Hilda left them she said a short 
 prayer: — 
 
 "We thank Thee, O Lord, for all the happiness we 
 have had this year, in spite of the grief of nations. 
 And even in black days there is the joy of the love of 
 friends and the comfort of feeling we are trying to 
 help each other. If it be Thy will, O Lord, we pray 
 that this war may end before another Thanksgiving 
 Day, and that Peace may come to all the nations and 
 the world be a big, unselfish family. But whether the 
 war is longer or shorter, we pray that in each house- 
 hold throughout the whole world, the older children 
 may take thought for the younger and 'weaker ones, 
 and the younger ones be kind to the older ones; for if 
 all children try faithfully to do their best, when they 
 grow to be men and women, love will prevail and there 
 can be no such thing as War. Be with those who stay 
 and those who go, and, if it be Thy will, bring us to- 
 gether again in Thy good time. Amen." 
 
 Evelyn had been sure she should wake early in the 
 morning and say good-bye to her dear Blue Aunt, 
 but she sat up so late she did not wake imtil she heard 
 the front door shut with a bang. Then she scrambled 
 out of bed and ran to the window. 
 
 "She's going! She's going!" she cried to Prue and 
 Nancy. 
 
144 THE BLUE AUNT 
 
 They rubbed their eyes and tried to get up, but the 
 bed was warm and comfortable, and the room was 
 cold. 
 
 Aunt Hilda, in her new fur coat, was walking down 
 the brick walk to the waiting sleigh. Evelyn's father 
 was on one side of her and Jim on the other side, and 
 he had hold of her hand. Jim's sturdy little figure was 
 walking along with a stride as much like his father's 
 as his small legs could make it. 
 
 Evelyn shed a few tears as she saw her aunt whirled 
 away out of her sight. 
 
 "Come and get back into bed again; it is n't time 
 to get up," said Prue, in her cheerful voice. "It's 
 going to be a lovely day, and there'll be coasting. 
 Are n't you glad I am going to stay two whole weeks? " 
 
 So Evelyn dried her eyes and thought how glad 
 she was to have a visit from darling Prue. 
 
iSOjt ttttaecjJibe ]Ste^jt 
 
 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U - S . A 
 
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