“And, papa, have I been naughty too?” said Arthur?  “I am sure I did not see any thing so very dreadful in Sir Edwin.  He came up and spoke to mother as if he knew her quite well, and then he talked ever so much to me, and said if I would visit him he would give me a boat to row, and a horse to ride.  And I’m sure he seemed the very kindest, pleasantest gentleman.”

“So he is; and nothing shall ever make me believe he isn’t.” cried Miss Gascoigne, always delighted to pull against the tide.  “And I must say, Dr. Grey, the way you and your wife set up your opinion against that of really good society is perfect nonsense.  For my part, when I have a house of my own once more, and can invite whomsoever I please—­”

“I would nevertheless advise, so far as a brother may,” interrupted Dr. Grey, very seriously, “that you do not invite Sir Edwin Uniacke.  And now, aunts both,” with that sun-shiny smile which could disperse almost any domestic cloud, “as this conversation is not particularly interesting to the children, suppose we end it.  When do you intend to have us all to tea at Avonside?”

Chapter 13.

"Forgive us each his daily sins, If few or many, great or small; And those that sin against us, Lord, Good Lord!  Forgive them all.

"Judge us not as we others judge; Condemn us not as we condemn; They who are merciless to us, Be merciful to them.

"And if the cruel storm should pass, And let Thy heaven of peace appear, Make not our right the right—­or might, But make the right shine clear."

“Well, the least I can say of it is that it is very extraordinary!”

“What is extraordinary?” asked Miss Grey, looking up placidly from her knitting, which did not get on very fast now.  For Aunt Maria was exceedingly busy and exceedingly happy.  If ever her brother or his wife had the least qualms of conscience about her removal from the Lodge to Avonside, they would have been dispelled by the sight of the dear little fat woman trotting about, the picture of content, full of housekeeping plans, and schemes for her poultry-yard, her pigeon-house, and her green-house.  As for her garden, it was a source of perpetual pride, wonder, and delight.  The three years which she had spent at the Lodge—­which, in her secret heart, she owned were rather dull and trying years—­were ended.

She herself, and, indeed, the whole establishment, resumed again exactly the place they had filled in the lifetime of the first Mrs. Grey.  Avonside became once more a regular aunts’ house—­devoted to children, who now, at the distance of a mile and a half, thought nothing so delightful as to spend long days there, and be petted by Aunt Maria.