"Yes."

"Oh, let us have them in that old-fashioned china fruit-basket I've
always admired so much, Aunt Wealthy!" cried Lottie eagerly. "I don't
believe Elsie has seen it at all."

"No, so she hasn't; but she shall now," said the old lady, hastening
toward her china-closet. "There, Aunt Chloe, just stand on the dish,
and hand down that chair from this top shelf. Or, if you would,
Horace, you're taller, and can reach better. I'm always like the
sycamore tree that was little of stature, and couldn't see Zaccheus
till he climbed into it."

"Rather a new and improved version of the Bible narrative, aunt, isn't
it?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, with an amused look, as he came toward her.
"And I fear I'm rather heavy to stand on a dish; but will use the
chair instead, if you like."

"Ah! I've put the horse before the cart as usual, I see;" she said,
joining good-humoredly in the laugh the others found it impossible
to suppress. "It's an old trick of my age, that increases with my
advancing youth, till I sometimes wonder what I'm coming to; the words
will tangle themselves up in the most troublesome fashion; but if you
know what I mean, I suppose it's all the same."

"Why, Aunt Wealthy, this is really beautiful," said Mr. Dinsmore,
stepping from the chair with the basket, in his hand.

"Yes, it belonged to your great-grandmother, Horace, and I prize it
highly on that account. No, Aunt Chloe, I shall wipe it out and put