Tea was followed by games and other interesting amusements, all of which Winnie enjoyed immensely; and then Aunt Judith inquired if she would like to see an old maid's den. "Nellie has never as yet been privileged to cross its threshold," she finished laughingly, "so it will be something new for both of you to inspect."
With that she led the way and ushered the two girls into her study.
Both stood for a few minutes silent, glancing round the pretty room so simply and tastefully furnished; then with a little cry of delight they sprang towards the bookcase and began to scan the contents eagerly.
"Why, I declare," cried Winnie excitedly, "here are ever so many books like the one I have at home just now. They are all by the same author too.--Miss Latimer," she continued, turning and speaking rapidly, "she must be a good lady who writes those books. I have only read one of them, entitled 'A Summer's Pleasure;' but it was beautiful, and I felt as if I should like, oh _so much_, to talk with the author, and tell her how earnestly I long to be good, and how I can't."
Nellie, who had taken one of the pretty volumes into her hand and was scanning the title-page, looked up at Miss Latimer's face with a half-incredulous light in her eyes; but Aunt Judith, gazing down on the little figure before her, failed to catch the puzzled gleam.
"My child," she said, oh so gently, taking the small white hands and drawing the young girl to the warm fireside, "your words do my heart good, and help to repay me for hours of weary labour. You wish to know the author of those books, dear. You feel you could tell her some of your deepest longings. What will you say when I confess that she stands before you--that it is in very truth Aunt Judith who loves children and sends them through print her best heart-thoughts?"
Nellie's face at this point was a study; but Winnie cried joyfully,--
"I knew it, I knew it! something whispered to me it was you. Oh, Miss Latimer, I am so glad! Will you lend me one of your dear little books, and may I love you because you are so good? I wish you were my aunt; I do indeed," and there was a lonely ache in the girlish voice as she spoke.
Miss Latimer laid her hand on the rough curly head.