"I shall die," Aunt Mary then declared with violence, "if I don't have a change. Arethusa, you've got to write to Jack, and tell him to get me Granite."

"Granite!" screamed the niece in surprise.

"Yes, Granite. She was a maid I had in New York. I want her to come here.

She must come. Tell him to offer her anything, and send her C.O.D. If I can have Granite, maybe I'll feel some better. You write Jack."

"I'll write to-night," shrieked Arethusa.

"No, you won't," said Aunt Mary; "you'll get the ink and write right now.

Because I've been meeker'n Moses all my life is no reason why I sh'd be willin' to be downtrodden clear to the end. Folks around me'd better begin to look sharp an' step lively from now on."

Arethusa went to the desk at once and wrote:

DEAR JACK:

Aunt Mary wants the maid that she had when she was in New York.

For the love of Heaven, if the girl is procurable, do get her.

Hire her if you can and kidnap her if you can't. Lucinda has played her usual trick on me and walked off just when she felt like it. I never saw Aunt Mary in anything like the state of mind that she is, but I know one thing-if you cannot send the maid, there'll be an end of me.

Your loving sister,

ARETHUSA.

Jack was much perturbed upon receipt of this letter. He whistled a little and frowned a great deal. But at last he decided to be frank and tell the truth to Mrs. Rosscott. To that end he wrote her a lengthy note. After two preliminary pages so personal that it would not be right to print them for public reading, he continued thus:

I've had a letter from my sister, who is with Aunt Mary at present. She says that Aunt Mary is not at all well and declares that she must have Janice. What under the sun am I to answer?

Shall I say that the girl has gone to France? I'm willing to swear anything rather that put you to one second's inconvenience. You know that, don't you? etc., etc., etc. [just here the letter abruptly became personal again].

Jack thought that he knew his fiancee well, but he was totally unprepared for such an exhibition of sweet ness as was testified to by the letter which he received in return.

It's first six pages were even more personal than his own (being more feminine) and then came this paragraph:

Janice is going to your aunt by to-night's train. Now, don't say a word! It is nothing-nothing-absolutely nothing. Don't you know that I am too utterly happy to be able to do anything for anyone that you-etc., etc., etc.

Jack seized his hat and hurried to where his lady-love was just then residing. But Janice had gone!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - "GRANITE"

Joshua was despatched to drive through mud and rain to bring Aunt Mary's solace from the station.

Aunt Mary had herself propped up in bed to be ready for the return before Billy's feet had ceased to cry splash on the road outside of the gate. Her eagerness tinged her pallor pink. It was as if the prospect of seeing Janice gave her some of that flood of vitality which always seems to ebb and flow so richly in the life of a metropolis.

"My gracious heavens, Lucinda" (for Lucinda was back now), she said joyfully, "to think that I needn't look at you for a week if I don't want to! You haven't any idea how tired I am of looking at you, Lucinda. If you looked like anything it would be different. But you don't."

Lucinda rocked placidly; hers was what is called an "even disposition." If it hadn't been, she might have led an entirely different life-in fact, she would most certainly have lived somewhere else, for she couldn't possibly have lived with Aunt Mary.

The hour that ensued after Joshua's departure was so long that it resulted in a nap for the invalid, and Lucinda had to wake her by slamming the closet door when the arrival turned in at the gate.

"Has he got her?" Aunt Mary cried breathlessly. "Has he got someone with him? Run, Lucinda, an' bring her in. She needn't wipe her feet, tell her; you can brush the hall afterwards. Well, why ain't you hurryin'?"

Lucinda was hurrying, her curiosity being as potent as the commands of her mistress, and five seconds later Janice appeared in the door with her predecessor just behind her-a striking contrast.

"You dear blessed Granite!" cried the old lady, stretching out her hands in a sort of ecstasy. "Oh, my! but I'm glad to see you! Come right straight here. No, shut the door first. Lucinda, you go and do 'most anything. An' how is the city?"

Janice came to the bedside and dropped on her knees there, taking Aunt Mary's withered hand close in both of her own.

"You didn't shut the door," the old lady whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "I wish you would-an' bolt it, too. An' then come straight back to me."

Janice closed and bolted the door, and returned to the bedside. Aunt Mary drew her down close to her, and her voice and eyes were hungry, indeed.

For a little she looked eagerly upon what she had so craved to possess again, and then she suddenly asked:

"Granite, have you got any cigarettes with you?"

The maid started a little.

"Do you smoke now?" she asked, with interest.

"No," said Aunt Mary sadly, "an' that's one more of my awful troubles. You see I'm jus' achin' to smell smoke, an' Joshua promised his mother the night before he was twenty-one. You don't know nothin' about how terrible I feel. I'm empty somewhere jus' all the time. Don't you believe't you could get some cigarettes an' smoke 'em right close to me, an' let me lay here, an' be so happy while I smell. I'll have a good doctor for you, if you're sick from it."

The maid reflected; then she nodded.

"I'll write to town," she cried, in her high, clear tones. "What brand do you like best?"

"Mitch.e.l.l's," said Aunt Mary. "But you can't get those because he made 'em himself an' sealed 'em with a lick. Oh!" she sighed, with the accent of a starving Sybarite, "I do wish I could see him do it again! Do you know,"

she added suddenly, "he wrote me a letter and he's goin' to come here."

"When?" asked Janice.

"After a while. But you must take off your things. That's your room in there," pointing toward a half-open door at the side. "I wanted you as close as I could get you. My, but I've wanted you! I can't tell you how much. But a good deal-a lot-awfully."

Janice went into the room that was to be hers, and hung up her hat and cloak.

When she returned Aunt Mary was looking a hundred per cent, improved already.

"Can you hum 'Hiawatha'?" she asked immediately. "Granite, I must have suthin' to amuse me an' make me feel good. Can you hum 'Hiawatha' an' can you do that kind of 'sh-sh-sh-'that everybody does all together at the end, you know?"

Janice smiled pleasantly, and placing herself in the closest possible proximity with the ear trumpet, at once rendered the desired _morceau_ in a style which would have done credit to a soloist in a _cafe chantant_.