“When shall I start?” exclaimed Jack, eagerly.

“To-morrow morning,” answered his father, “and you must take clothes enough with you to last several days, in case it should be necessary.”

“What good do you suppose it will do, Timothy,” broke in Rachel, “to send such a mere boy as Jack?”

“A mere boy!” repeated her nephew, indignantly.

“A boy hardly sixteen years old,” continued Rachel.  “Why, he’ll need somebody to take care of him.  Most likely you’ll have to go after him.”

“What’s the use of provoking a fellow so, Aunt Rachel?” said Jack.  “You know I’m most eighteen.  Hardly sixteen!  Why, I might as well say you’re hardly forty, when everybody knows you’re most fifty.”

“Most fifty!” ejaculated the scandalized spinster.  “It’s a base slander.  I’m only forty-three.”

“Maybe I’m mistaken,” said Jack, carelessly.  “I didn’t know exactly.  I only judged from your looks.”

“‘Judge not that ye be not judged!’” said Rachel, whom this explanation was not likely to appease.  “The world is full of calumny and misrepresentation.  I’ve no doubt you would like to shorten my days upon the earth, but I sha’n’t live long to trouble any of you.  I feel that, ere the summer of life is over, I shall be gathered into the garden of the Great Destroyer.”

At this point, Rachel applied a segment of a pocket-handkerchief to her eyes; but unfortunately, owing to circumstances, the effect, instead of being pathetic, as she had intended, was simply ludicrous.

It so happened that a short time previous the inkstand had been partially spilled on the table, and this handkerchief had been used to sop it up.  It had been placed inadvertently on the window-seat, where it had remained till Rachel, who sat beside the window, called it into requisition.  The ink upon it was by no means dry.  The consequence was that, when Rachel removed it from her eyes, her face was found to be covered with ink in streaks,—­mingling with the tears that were falling, for Rachel always had tears at her command.

The first intimation the luckless spinster had of her misfortune, was conveyed in a stentorian laugh from Jack, whose organ of mirthfulness, marked very large by the phrenologist, could not withstand such a provocation to laughter.

He looked intently at the dark traces of sorrow upon his aunt’s face, of which she was yet unconscious—­and doubling up, went into a perfect paroxysm of laughter.

Aunt Rachel looked equally amazed and indignant.

“Jack!” said his mother, reprovingly, for she had not observed the cause of his amusement.  “It’s improper for you to laugh at your aunt in such a rude manner.”

“Oh, I can’t help it, mother.  It’s too rich!  Just look at her,” and Jack went off into another paroxysm.

Thus invited, Mrs. Crump did look, and the rueful expression of Rachel, set off by the inky stains, was so irresistibly comical, that, after a little struggle, she too gave way, and followed Jack’s example.