“I heard grandfather tell Aunt Mattie the other night that she was no more his child than I was her child,” responded Olwen Smith, mechanically stroking Miss Gault’s hand like an affectionate little automaton, while her feverish mocking eyes seemed to say to Wolf, “There, watch the effect of that !”

“Mattie’s mother died about twenty-five years ago, child,” expostulated Miss Gault. “Her name was Lorna. She and your grandfather used to have dreadful quarrels before she died. That’s why Mr. Smith, when he gets angry, says things like that. Of course Mattie is his daughter; and it’s very wrong of him to say such things.”

“Aunt Mattie’s funny ,” murmured the little girl.