There was more to be told, and this was as good a time as any. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. " While he was thus musing, he fancied he heard the lock tried. At last, she breathed. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Bird,—who was rushing up stairs, alarmed by Mr. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. "It was some time before I could get him to move. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. Here we are.
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