Toady, stroking his variegated countenance with grateful admiration
for the stains that saved him.

"Go and wash this moment, sir. Thank Heaven, _I've_ got no boys,"
cried Aunt Kipp. as if boys were some virulent disease which she had
narrowly escaped.

With a hasty peck at the lips of her two elder relatives, the old lady
seated herself, and slowly removed the awful bonnet, which in shape
and hue much resembled a hearse hung with black crape.

"I'm glad you are better," said Mary, reverently receiving the
funereal head-gear.

"I'm _not_ better," cut in Aunt Kipp. "I'm worse, much worse; my days
are numbered; I stand on the brink of the tomb, and may drop at any
moment."

Toady's face was a study, as he glanced up at the old lady's florid
countenance, down at the floor, as if in search of the above-mentioned
"brink," and looked unaffectedly anxious to see her drop. "Why don't
you, then?" was on his lips; but a frown from Polly restrained him,
and he sat himself down on the rug to contemplate the corpulent
victim.

"Have a cup of tea, aunt?" said Mrs. Snow.

"I will."

"Lie down and rest a little," suggested Polly.