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 Introduction to C++ Programming

CADCIM Technologies

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Professor
Purdue University Calumet
Hammond, Indiana
USA

Introduction to C++ Programming

Sham Tickoo
CADCIM Technologies
525 St Andrews Drive
Schererville, Indiana 46375, USA
www.cadcim.com
Copyright © 2016 by CADCIM Technologies, USA. All rights
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Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Introduction to C++

Chapter 2: Getting Started with C++

Chapter 3: Control Statements

Chapter 4: Functions and Arrays

Chapter 5: Strings, Pointers, and Structures

Chapter 6: Union, Enumeration, and Preprocessor

Chapter 7: Data Structure

Chapter 8: Classes and Objects

Chapter 9: Constructors, Destructors, and Operator Overloading

Chapter 10: Inheritance

Chapter 11: Virtual Functions and Polymorphism

Chapter 12: The C++ Console I/O Operations

Chapter 13: Exception Handling

Chapter 14: The File I/O System

Preface

C++
Welcome to Introduction to C++ an example based textbook,
written to cater to the needs of beginners and intermediate users.
C++ is an object-oriented programming language, which is a
preferred programming approach followed by the software industry.
C++ enjoys the distinction of being the most popular and widely
used OOP language in the world. The syntax, style, features and
philosophy of the language form the basis of many other
programming languages such as Java and C#.

Created by Bjarne Stroustrup in the early 1980s, C++, over the

period, has undergone many changes and improvements. In 1998,
the language was standardized by the American National
Standards Institute (ANSI) and the International Standards
Organization (ISO). The textbook confirms to these standards and
explains various features of the language in a simple and easy
style.

The highlight of the textbook is that each concept introduced in it

has been exemplified by a program to clarify and facilitate better
understanding. Also, the line-by-line explanation of each program
ensures that the users with no previous programming experience
are able to understand the concepts and master the programming
techniques and use them with flexibility while designing programs.

The main features of the book are as follows:

Programming This textbook introduces the key ideas of object-

oriented programming in an intuitive way. The concepts are
illustrated through best programming examples, covering all
aspects of OOP and C++.

Additional information is provided to the users in the form of

notes.
Illustrations: There is an extensive use of examples, schematic
representation, flow-charts, tables, screen capture images, and
programming exercises.

Learning The first page of every chapter summarizes the topics

that are covered in it.

Self-Evaluation Test, Review Questions, and Each chapter ends with

a Self-Evaluation Test so that the users can assess their
knowledge. The answers of the Self-Evaluation Test are given at
the end of the chapter. Also, the Review Questions and Exercises
are given at the end of each chapter that can be used by the
Instructors as test questions and exercises.

Free Companion Website

It has been our constant endeavor to provide you the best
textbooks and services at affordable price. In this endeavor, we
have come out with a Free Companion Website that will facilitate
the process of teaching and learning of C++. If you purchase this
textbook, you will get access to the files on the Companion
website. The following resources are available for faculty and
students in this website:

Faculty Resources

• Technical Support
You can get online technical support by contacting
techsupport@cadcim.com.

• Instructor Guide
Solutions to all the review questions and exercises in the textbook
are provided to
help the faculty members test the skills of the students.

• Example Files
The C++ files used in examples are available for free download.

Student Resources
• Technical Support
You can get online technical support by contacting
techsupport@cadcim.com.

• Example Files
The C++ files used in examples are available for free download.

If you face any problem in accessing these files, please contact

the publisher at or the author at stickoo@purduecal.edu or

Stay Connected
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Chapter 1

Introduction to C++

Learning Objectives

After completing this chapter, you will be able to:

• Understand the concept of procedure-oriented programming
• Understand the concept of object-oriented programming
• Understand the features of object-oriented programming
• Understand the fundamentals of C++
• Understand the >>(extraction) and<<(insertion) operators

Introduction

In early 1980’s, a new programming language was developed by

Bjarne Stroustrup at Bell Laboratories, USA. This language, an
extended version of C language, is known as C++. Apart from the
features of the C language, C++ also has some additional features
such as classes, objects, and so on. When C++ language was
developed, it was known as ‘C with classes’. In 1983, the name was
changed to C++. The ++ sign specifies that it is an incremented
version of the C language. This means that the code written in C
can also be executed in the C++ environment. Basically, C++ was
developed to eliminate some of the limitations of the C language
and also to provide some new features to the user.

In this chapter, you will know about procedure-oriented programming,

key concepts of object-oriented programming, and also some C++
fundamentals.
Procedure-Oriented Programming

Procedure-oriented programming (POP) is a programming technique

in which a problem is divided into subparts. These subparts are
solved by using different functions. In this type of programming
technique, all the programs are developed around functions. These
functions work on global data (data that can be accessed by all the
members of a program) and can also manipulate it. In this type of
programming technique, the primary focus is on the functions. For
example, you may want to solve a problem that performs three
different operations such as reading data from the user, processing
the data, and printing the output. Three different functions are
created to handle these operations, see Figure 1-1. This figure
illustrates that all the three operations are performed by three
different functions.

Figure 1-1 Representation of an POP

In procedure-oriented programming, the data that can be accessed by

all the functions is declared as global. Each function can also have
its own local data.
A major drawback of procedure-oriented programming is that the
data is not treated as a critical element and can be manipulated by
any of the functions. Another drawback is that you cannot solve the
real world problems by using the procedure-oriented technique. As
the size of the program increases, it becomes more complex and
difficult to understand.

Object-Oriented Programming
Object-oriented programming (OOP) developed to overcome the
limitations of the procedure-oriented programming is an improved
technique for developing the programs. In case of OOP, the data is
treated as the most critical element and the primary focus is on the
data and not on the procedures. In this technique, the data is
grouped together with the functions that operate on it. A problem is
divided into entities known as objects. Each object maintains its own
copy of data and functions. The data cannot be accessed directly by
the other objects of the program. It can only be accessed through a
proper interface such as functions, as shown in Figure 1-2.
 Figure 1-2 Representation of OOP
Features of Object-Oriented Programming
There are certain features that have made object-oriented
programming very popular. These features are as follows:

1. Objects
2. Classes
3. Encapsulation
4. Inheritance
5. Polymorphism

Objects
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 Even in this crisis, Madam Flynt's sense of humor did not desert
her. "I don't know that bones are any better than rocks to fall on!"
she whispered. "Hold on tight, Cornelia! hold on——"

But now, a miracle! They whirled round a corner, whirled up a

driveway: a touch on the reins, a word, and Pilot stood, breathing
quickly, but otherwise statue-like, before Dr. Pettijohn's door. He had
not been running away! Kitty had had him in control all the time! In
one thought-flash, Miss Croly removed Joan of Arc and Mary Stuart
from their pedestals and set up Kitty Ross as her Heroine for all
time.

Three minutes more, and they were speeding back, still at arrow-
flight. Dr. Pettijohn knew Pilot and Kitty, and leaned back
comfortably on the front seat, reflecting that it was criminal for such
a horse as that to be owned by any one but a doctor. Madam Flynt
resumed her dignity, and cast a quelling glance at Miss Croly, who
was now making ineffective dabs at her patroness's bonnet with a
view to straightening it.

"Let me alone!" said the lady. "I prefer it as it is. And hold on, you
ridiculous woman! We are going faster than ever, even if the animal
is under control."

Kitty was very sorry about poor Mr. Gaylord, but she could not
help realizing that Pilot was in wonderful condition to-day. She
quoted under her breath, for Dr. Pettijohn's benefit:

"I would not have the horse I drive

So fast that folks should stop and stare;
An easy gait,—two-forty-five—
Suits me; I do not care.
Perhaps, just for a single spurt,
Some seconds less would do no hurt!"

The doctor nodded.

 "Trouble is, Miss Kitty, your track is too short!" he said, as the
Gaylord chimneys rose above the next turn of the road.

"I know!" Kitty nodded regretfully. "He's just got warmed up to his
work, and here we are!"

Here they were; turning in at the great gateway; crunching over

the gravel; stopping at the gaunt front door, which had not been
opened in twenty years. It opened now, and Judge Peters stood on
the steps.

"Well done, Kitty!" he exclaimed. "Yes, you are in time. Come in,
Dr. Pettijohn. One moment!" he bent to whisper in Kitty's ear. "One
more errand for you, my dear brave child! Providence sent you to-
night, I am confident of it. Our poor friend desires greatly to see
your Aunt Johanna. Yes!" as Kitty uttered a cry of surprise. "They
were friends in youth; perhaps more than friends. He wishes to take
leave of her. Is she able to come, do you think, Kitty? Not for worlds
would I have her do herself an injury!"

"Perfectly able, I am sure! I'll just take the ladies home; thank
you, Judge dear!"

Pilot did very well, Kitty thought, to slacken his pace so cheerfully
the rest of the way to Madam Flynt's house; even so, they were two
shaken and disheveled ladies who dismounted at the stone steps,
and Abby Ann, hurrying out with the foot-stool, exclaimed in dismay
at their appearance.

"For the goodness gracious sake, Madam!" she cried. "Whatever

has happened to your bonnet?"

Madam Flynt waved her aside with dignity and addressed Kitty.

"We have had a most interesting drive!" she said. "I congratulate
you, Kitty, on your skill; and I am deeply thankful to have been able
—you understand, my dear! Good evening! Cornelia, you are
treading on my skirt. If you have pretty feet, it is not necessary to
trample——There! don't mind me! it was my fault, I dare say."

Every moment of this evening was bitten into Kitty's mind, an

ineffaceable impression: sharpest and clearest of all, the moment
when she stood faltering in the doorway of the Red Indian Room.

Miss Johanna Ross (in rose-color this time) was sitting erect
among her pillows, reading "Framley Parsonage." She was going
through the whole Trollope fleet of "old three-deckers" with infinite
enjoyment. Her firm, rather sharp countenance was relaxed in lines
of leisurely amusement. Looking up, and meeting Kitty's eyes, it
waked into vivid attention.

"What's the matter?" demanded Miss Johanna. "Sickness or

accident?"

She had dropped her book, and was gathering her draperies
about her.

"Sickness!" Kitty spoke quietly, trying to keep all hurry out of her
voice.

"An old friend of yours, Aunt Johanna, has come back and is—is
very ill, I fear. He would like to see you. It is——"

"Russell Gaylord!" said Johanna Ross.

The Rosses all move quickly. "Medicated lightning," people used

to call Dr. Ross, when he was summoned to an emergency case.
Kitty could only think of this, as without another word her aunt
flashed from her pillows, rustled into her clothes, and with a shake
of her shoulders stood alert, able, prepared.

"Now, child!" she pinned on her veil with a steady hand. "I am
ready. Who sent you? Judge Peters? Good! and you have Pilot? Good
again! we need lose no time. I dreamed last night—come!"
 Pilot may have wondered where his promised mash was; why he
was carefully blanketed for ten minutes, then taken out once more,
and once more given the signal for full speed; but beyond a whinny
of surprise, and a toss of his head, he gave no sign. Kitty's word was
Pilot's law. Again the miles sped by; this time the passenger took no
heed of them; the pace was all too slow for her. Again the flying
turn, the crunching gravel; again the door opening, the grave figure
hastening down the steps.

"Alive! still conscious! yes! asking for you. Thank God you are
come! The end is near, prepare for a great change, my friend!"

Shall we go in with Johanna Ross to that room where the love of

her youth lies gasping his last hour away? Shall we look upon her,
kneeling by the bedside, holding the skeleton hands, looking
tenderly into the hollow eyes? No! we have no business there. We
will come away, with the two faithful friends, who went, one to stand
outside the chamber door, in case of need, the other on the steps,
smoothing Pilot's glossy neck and exchanging brief snatches of talk
with Kitty; she, wondering, pitying, yet dreading to touch upon the
mystery that had outlasted her young life.

They were all at school together, Mr. Mallow said. Russ was an
elegant boy. "Him and Johanna was always together, same as you
and——" Here Mr. Mallow was seized with a prolonged fit of
coughing.

"Anybody ask you about Russ Gaylord," cried the hotel keeper,
"and you say he was nobody's enemy but his own. Nobody's but his
own! Your father knew that. Doctor knew it. 'Russ,' he'd say, 'Stop
now! stop to-day! you can!' but he couldn't; he couldn't. The peth
was dead in him, like a dozy log. Yes! Poor Russ! too bad, ain't it?"

"Has he been ill long, Mr. Mallow?" asked Kitty timidly.

"He's ben ailin' ever sence he come. Lemme see! March wasn't it?
Yes, March, and here we are in May. He's ben jest wastin' away, poor
Russ has."

"Not—he hasn't been all alone, has he?" with a glance at the
dark, shuttered house, the tall firs pointing spectral fingers at it, and
the great chestnut tree, tossing its bare arms as if in grief or horror.

"Me and Ned—I would say the Jedge—has ben here all we could.
He wouldn't have no one else! We was boon companions in primary
school, and we kep' right on. Not in all ways, is what I would say;
there was p'ints—no need to go into that! His heart was right in his
boosum all the time, Russ's was. Now he lays there."

Mr. Mallow drew out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes simply.

All Cyrus came to Russell Gaylord's funeral. Tinkham, too, and

Tupham. Some, no doubt, came from curiosity, idle or worse, to see
the great house open once more, the long windows thrown wide,
the sunlight gilding the mouldered furniture and moth-eaten
tapestries. These would be outsiders. Cyrus people were full of
sorrow and compassion. They came in their best clothes, Madam
Flynt in her ermine and velvet, Anne Peace in her brown Sunday
gown; it was all they could do. With bowed heads they entered the
door. How jovially the gay young host used to welcome them to
these long drawing-rooms! How shining and scented they used to
be, with lights and flowers! There were flowers now. Kitty and Nelly
Chanter had found enough early blossoms in the neglected garden
to make a wreath—only Forsythia and Japanese pear, but it was gay
and cheerful—and some one had sent a splendid wreath of passion
flowers. At the last Johanna Ross, who stood at the head of the
coffin, while Mr. Chanter read the service, took the bunch of violets
from her bosom, and laid it over the dead man's heart.
 CHAPTER XIV
johanna rediviva
Miss Johanna did not go back to bed. She had had six months of
rest, she said, and that was enough.

"Besides," she added, "I must show myself for poor Russell's
sake. I can't have people saying that he ruined my health for life, as
well as destroyed my reason."

She spoke frankly to Kitty, as they sat together on the leather

sofa, the evening after the funeral.

"That was why I went away!" said Miss Johanna. "We were very
much in love with each other, but it was no use. He couldn't keep
straight; and I am not a fool, Kitty. He wouldn't give me up, so I
went away. Wrongly, your little mother thought; John knew I was
right. So there is all about that!" Thus Miss Johanna, very erect on
the sofa. Kitty, moving close beside her, put her arm round her and
laid her fair head against her shoulder.

"Thank you, my dear! yes, it was hard; almost as hard to have

Mary disapprove of me as to lose him." Miss Johanna brushed away
a tear, and frowned at the spot on her handkerchief.

"She asked me—little romantic goose of a white rose!—if I

thought she would leave John if he——'My child,' I said, 'John would
leave you! John would allow nothing of that kind to come within
sight or sound of you. If he found he had to drink, he would go and
drink in the Mammoth Cave, and drop the bottles into the
bottomless pit.' It was true!

"But mind you, Kitty!" Miss Johanna spoke incisively, after a

silence, during which both had gazed into the fire with tear-bright
eyes. "You must not think I have mourned for twenty years. People
don't do that, not even women. I mourned for a good while, as long
as was reasonable; perhaps longer. Otherwise, I have been a busy
and on the whole a contented woman. Why shouldn't I be? I have
friends all over the country; I have had many pleasures; now, thanks
to you, my dear child, I have a home, the home of my own
childhood. Considering humanity in the aggregate, I have done
extremely well. Extremely well! A single woman can be happy
enough, Kitty," Miss Johanna did not look at her niece as she spoke,
"happy enough if she has sense. I have known spinsters who had
twice as many children as if they had borne 'em; and I've known
mothers, dozens of 'em, with hearts and arms as empty as their
heads. And if Sarepta Darwin wants anything," added Miss Johanna,
"I'll thank her to put a name to it, instead of clucking and scuttling
out there in the hall."

Sarepta appeared, and fixed the speaker with a wintry eye. "I
don't want anything!" she said austerely. "I was comin' to ask
whether you wanted any supper; that's all. Bell rang ten minutes
ago; don't make no odds to me whether it's hot or cold."

It did make odds to Miss Johanna, however, that Sarepta had

prepared for supper all her little favorite delicacies, down to the dash
of cinnamon on the buttered toast, with which she usually "couldn't
bother." Late that evening, when Kitty was in bed, the stately lady
crept down the back stairs to the kitchen, and had a comfortable
little cry with her old grammar-school mate, who in her grim fashion
had worshiped Russell Gaylord ever since, at the age of twelve, he
gave her a bite of his apple.

The next thing, Miss Johanna announced, was the Visits. People
had left cards for her when she came: sympathetic cards, inquisitive
cards, scandalized cards, as the case might be. Now, for the sake of
things in general (and Kitty in particular, it may be confessed
between author and reader), Miss Johanna determined to "make her
manners," and prove her sanity of mind and body. These were
exciting days for Cyrus. One hardly dared leave the house for fear of
missing The Call.
 "Has she been to see you? She has? Well! how did she appear?
Was she flighty, or what you would call reasonable? Stylish? Well,
you would expect that! she was always one to dress. What did she
——oh! broadcloth! Well! that is always ladylike. They claim basket-
weaves are all the style now, but I don't know. Anyhow, it's
something for her to be in her right mind."

Mrs. Wibird was openly disturbed about the influence that

Johanna was likely to exert over Kitty.

"While she was in her bed," said the lady, "it was another matter;
but now, the two of them together, and like that, it's my fear we
shall see things that we are not used to them in Cyrus."

Melissa was on fire instantly.

"I don't know what you mean, Mother! What kind of things?"

"No, you don't know, my child;" Mrs. Wibird shook a melancholy

head over the bowl in which she was mixing gingerbread. "You don't
know, and it is far from my wish that you should." (N. B. The good
lady had no idea herself what she meant, but Lissy shouldn't speak
back like that.) "I say nothing; nothing at all! I never do say
anything, as is well known. But take the way Kitty Ross drives, which
is in itself a scandal, be the other who it may; and add to it a person
who has always been peculiar, and now little better than a lunatic, if
all one hears—hand me the spice-box, will you, Lissy? You've kned
that dough enough; you'll take the courage all out of it—all I say is, I
hope Cyrus will not rue the day that either one of them—My
gracious, Lissy! they're driving up to the door this minute! Here, take
my apron! No! You go to the door—no, I'll go to the door and keep
'em back while you pull up the parlor curt——

"Johanna Ross! do not tell me this is you! well! well! well! you are
a stranger! Kitty comin' in? No! the wild animal wouldn't stand, of
course. Terrible!" as Kitty and Pilot whisked round the corner. "I
expect to see her dashed in fragments any day: any day! My son
Wilson nearly met his death the night of Madam Flynt's party. Well, if
this isn't a sight for sore eyes. Come in! Come right in, Johanna! I
never thought to be welcoming you into my humble sitting-room in
this world!"

The Misses Bygood had made fitting preparations to receive their

old friend and schoolmate. The covers were taken off Aunt
Messenger's Chair (embroidered by that lady seventy-five years ago,
and as fresh as the day it was finished, owing to the covers; there
were three, one basted, one tied, and the third but- toned on); the
tidies and the frilled tassel-bags were done up—I met some one the
other day who had never heard of a tassel-bag!—an extra touch
given to the shining silver and crystal. And after all this, Miss
Johanna made her call in the shop! One might have known she
would! Miss Almeria reflected; there was a shade of austerity on her
smooth brow as she advanced to greet her guest. Miss Johanna was
buoyant.

"Howdy? howdy?" she cried. "Second call, you see, Almy! First call
on Madam Flynt, second on Miss Bygoods: Proprieties of Cyrus,
volume I, chapter I. Father down yet?"

Father not down; it was early for him. Egeria usually brought him
down at ten o'clock. It was now but——

"I know! half-past nine. I came early on purpose. To-morrow Kitty

and I are coming to the house to tea, if you will have us, Almy. We
want the Chair taken out, and the tassel-bags done up, and the
Lowestoft cups. I'll wear my best dress, which is a beauty. But now
—may I help you dust? You used to let me—thanks! Best of Almys!"

Miss Almeria proffered a silk duster with fingers that trembled

slightly. She and Johanna Ross had been intimates in girlhood; she
had found it hard to forgive the slight put upon Cyrus by her friend
in leaving it with no word of explanation. She now felt that there had
been extenuating circumstances. She had never thought to have
Johanna dusting with her again.
 For some minutes they plied their delicate task in silence; then:

"My stars!" cried Miss Johanna. She turned with shining eyes,
holding up a book. "Almeria! here is 'Guy Livingstone' behind the
Manila envelopes, where I dropped him twenty years ago when you
wanted to burn him. Precious tome! untidy girl! Where is your
housekeeping?"

Her laugh rang out triumphantly; a delightful laugh, clear and

bell-like as Kitty's own.

Miss Almeria laughed, too. "I think you will find no dust on the
volume, Johanna!" she said demurely. "I never thought it suitable for
general circulation, as you are aware, but——"

Miss Johanna gave her a kind glance.

"But you kept it for naughty Johanna's sake! That was very sweet
of you, Almy. I'll take it with me now, if you don't mind. Ah! 'I know
men who would have given five years of life for the whisper that
glided into his ear as he gave Miss Bellasys her candle on retiring,
ten for the Parthian glance that shot its arrow home.' Now that is the
way to write, Almeria Bygood! Nobody writes like that nowadays."

Then with an abrupt change of tone, "I wanted to ask you one or
two things, Almy. You have sense, even if you don't appreciate 'Guy
Livingstone.' People like my Kitty, do they, Almeria?"

"Can you doubt it, Johanna? She is the idol of Cyrus. I express
myself too strongly!" Miss Almeria corrected herself: "idolatry is not
a—sentiment which—everybody loves her, Johanna! Who could
possibly help it? She is the light of the place!"

The touch of frost melted away, and Miss Almeria glowed with
tenderness.

"Good!" Miss Johanna nodded approbation. "She ought to be! She

is a blessed little Christmas candle! And—a—about the driving, Almy!
It hasn't—eh? People don't think—you know what I mean!"

"Perfectly!" Miss Almeria bent her stately head in comprehension.

"At first, Johanna, there were a few criticisms; only a few, and those
not from persons whose opinions carry any weight in the community.
In general, Kitty has had from the first the respect as well as the
affection of Cyrus. Her course was unusual, but the circumstances
were unusual. You need have no fear, Johanna!"

"Because of course," Miss Johanna paused to straighten a

calendar which was hanging awry; "of course there is no need of her
driving, you know, Almy!"

"No need?" repeated Miss Almeria.

"None in the world! I have done very well; I have plenty for both
of us. But it was so good for her, and she was enjoying it so, I hadn't
the heart to say 'Stop! Sit down, fold your hands, be a Young Lady
of Cyrus'—Beg pardon, Almy! You know I always loved it, if it did
stifle me!—when she was so gallant and having such a wonderful
time. I pay enough to make it easy for her, with the business, you
see. A single woman without a trade is a dog without a tail, my
dear; you know that! What are you flashing at, Almeria Bygood?
Have people been saying—they have! Transparency, thy name is
Almy! They have been saying that I am—I suppose you would never
speak to me again if I should say 'bumming' on Kitty!"

"The expression is new to me!" Miss Almeria stiffened for an

instant, then flashed again.

"Of course, Josie—" the diminutive slipped out unaware—"Egeria

and I—in fact, all your friends knew it was absurd to suppose for a
moment that—that you would think of any such thing; but—well,
you know there are persons, even in Cyrus, of suspicious nature; in
short, my dear, I am glad to be able to make a positive statement to
the effect——"
 "Ah, but you aren't!" Johanna Ross turned a face a-twinkle with
mischief.

"You aren't able to make any statement at all, Almy. I don't

authorize it! No!" as Miss Almeria exclaimed, protesting. "You are not
to say a single word. Let Cyrus sup full on my iniquities! My dear
soul, when I say Cyrus in this sense, of course I mean the Sharpes,
and I know as well as you that they are really Tinkham, So—Ah!
here is Mr. Bygood! Good morning, Mr. Bygood! What can I offer you
this morning? Something in the fancy line, my dear Sir? A looking-
glass is what you need, to see how handsome you are. Oh! oh! if
here is not Marsh Mallow! Marshall, how do you do? How do you
spell 'fish' nowadays? Do you remember, Almy? He thought 'Psyche'
was the queerest way of spelling 'fish' that ever he saw. Ha! ha!"

Judge Peters was late that morning. He had been detained by

various petty annoyances. First he had cut his chin while shaving;
then Mary wanted to talk about the price of eggs, which was a
scandal, and to explain at length why there had been a button off
his shirt last week. A client had come blundering to the house
instead of the office—most annoying!—with a flood of questions
about stumpage and flowage, and a torrent of asseverations that he
wasn't goin' to be put upon, nobody needn't think he was. No l'ywer
had ever got the better of him yet, his teeth was all eye-teeth, and
he didn't cut 'em yesterday neither, no, sir! Etc., etc., etc. Altogether
the Judge had been tried, and was in great need of his morning
paper, and a few minutes of sedate chat at Bygoods' before going to
his office. On entering the familiar door he started; absolutely
started! the quiet place was a-bubble with laughter. Mr. Bygood's
high "Te-hee! oh, very neat! very neat! te-hee!" quavered above the
rest, but they were all laughing. Miss Almeria's blue eyes were
flashing with merriment, Miss Egeria's beaming softly, as she
murmured, "Most diverting, I am sure!" Mr. Jordano was waving his
notebook in a state of excited rapture, while Mr. Mallow, his head
thrown back, uttered sonorous bellows of laughter. Miss Johanna
was telling stories. Standing erect, her back against the counter, trim
and elegant in her purple broadcloth, she held them all spellbound.
Her dark eyes shot sparkles of mirth; her whole countenance was
alight with fun and mischief. At sight of the Judge's grave face in the
doorway, a shadow swept over her own for a moment; their looks
crossed gravely, not like swords; say, like heralds' staves! Next
moment the lady was laughing again.

"Come in, Judge!" she cried. "Come in, Edward! Here I am,
Johanna rediviva! We are having a Bygood reunion. There is one
new boy!" she flashed a smile at Mr. Jordano, reducing him to the
verge of fatuous idiocy; "the rest of us are all Bygood children, and
Mr. Bygood is going to call the spelling class this minute. Go away,
Kitty!" as Kitty's wondering face peeped in at the door. "This isn't the
infant class. You are not born or thought of yet. Drive up and down
the street a couple of times, will you, my dear? Or—say you meet
me at Cheeseman's in fifteen minutes! I want some lemon drops."

Kitty, with a nod of comprehension, sped away; a little lonely at

heart, seeing them all so merry. Youth was a sad time, it seemed;
when one was entirely used to it, it would be different, she
supposed. Then she caught sight of Lissy Wibird and Nelly Chanter
posting along the street, laden with parcels from the General Store
(Adamses' had no delivery; if folks wanted things, they could come
and get 'em, was their view). Joyously signaling, Kitty drew up at the
curbstone; swept the girls and their parcels into the wagon, and
took them for a "perfectly delirious spin," as Nelly called it, along the
Tupham Causeway. It was nearer half an hour than fifteen minutes
before she drew up at Cheeseman's, her pocket full of apologies for
keeping her aunt waiting; when, behold, the said aunt coming slowly
down the street, Judge Peters beside her. The laughter had died out
of Miss Johanna's face; she looked gravely downward, listening to
her companion, whose face was equally grave. Kitty wondered;
might have wondered more, had she overheard their words.

"I shall come very soon!" said the Judge. "You will find me
unchanged, Johanna, in every respect."
 "I am glad to hear it, Edward!" Miss Johanna gave a glance half
sad, half quizzical, at the Judge's handsome iron-gray hair; "I have
never found the Fountain of Youth; I am an old woman, simply and
frankly."

"You are pleased to say so!" the Judge bowed courteously. "I
have never measured sentiment by the calendar; nor do I find," the
Judge's deep voice trembled slightly, "that Memory has lost any of
her charm. With your permission, Johanna, I will call to-morrow
evening."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Miss Johanna. "Yes, do, Edward; I shall be

delighted to see you, and so will Kitty. Here I am, child! Had you
given me up? We had to recite our history lesson, as well as spelling.
'King Canute reproved his flatterers and bade them perceive that he
was unable to keep back the rising tide——'"

"Quite so!" said the Judge. "I wish you good morning, Johanna.
Kitty, my love, your most obedient!"

"Oh, dear!" sighed Miss Johanna again as they entered the shop.
"What is it Peggotty says? 'Drat the man!' Oh, how do you do, Mr.
Cheeseman? You have been growing steadily younger for twenty
years, I do believe!"

CHAPTER XV
largely literary
"People do!" said Kitty,

"Do what?" asked Dan in an affectionate sniff. "Give a person an

apple?"
 "Yes, my Angel Poppet!"

Kitty reached for an apple—John Tucker kept a shelf of them

handy by the stalls—gave it to Dan and ate one herself for company.

(There should be a digression here on Kitty eating an apple; how

she succeeded in looking prettier than usual during the—as a rule—
unbecoming process; how daintily she set her teeth into it, taking
little pretty bites; how well her teeth matched the clear white as it
broke crisply from the red. If Dan were writing this story, he would
make such digression!)

"There is no need of snorting and sneezing over every crunch,

Beloved! I know it is good: apples in May! John Tucker is very
extravagant. But I meant matchmaking, Daniel dear. Do you think it
is ever allowable?"

Daniel refused to commit himself; hinted delicately that another

apple might aid him in forming an opinion.

"You see—" Kitty did not speak aloud; she was sure Dan
understood pats just as well—"you see, Beloved, there is no sense in
Bobby's going about looking sorrowful, when there is a perfectly
dear, sweet girl, worth three of me, who—well, I know what I think,
Dan dear! and I won't say I am probably mistaken as her mother
does—and is!—and they are both just as nice as they can be, you
know they are, and just the right age for each other, and he two
inches taller and all; and I do think she has a rather horrid time at
home, Dan dear! Just think of having to live perpetually with the
tenth and last Wilson Wimberley Wibird! Poor creature; I wonder
what Mr. Jordano said to him that day! He has not been near me
since. And Mrs. Wibird is pretty lamenting, somehow; oh dear! and
I'm afraid they haven't much to do with, Dan dear!"

Dan nodded thrice at this, whereupon Kitty told him he was a

gossip, and she wondered at him; kissed his velvet nose and
departed, thoughtful. She was on her way to the Library, to get
books for Aunt Johanna, that lady being in frivolous mood, and
demanding certain mid-Victorian novels which, when published, had
caused Shudders. It was natural to step into the stable; she almost
always did, whenever she was going out, in whatever direction. It
seemed also natural (at least it had grown to be no uncommon
thing) that Bobby Chanter should join her at the corner and be going
to the Library, too. Wednesday, he explained, looking rather
sheepish; funny thing, but there were some books they had here
that the college library did not possess. They paced along together,
the two young creatures, talking quietly of books. Bobby did not
care much for books, but Kitty liked them, he knew. What had he
been reading? she asked. Besides study books, of course! They took
most of his time, no doubt, but one had always to have a book on
hand.

"Oh, yes!" said Bobby rather forlornly. "I've got a book; Mother
gave it to me at Christmas. I've read quite a lot of it. I don't
remember its name. I'm not sure who wrote it; think it was a chap—
oh! here we are!"

Could it be possible that Bobby felt for once the slightest shade of
relief on arriving at the Library? Kitty knew such an awful lot! he
reflected ruefully, and he was such a duffer!

At sight of the pair, Melissa looked up, and blushed as pink as the
ribbon at her neat collar. Melissa was very pretty when she blushed,
Kitty thought; a little color was all she needed; how unreasonable
that one could not paint without immediately adding "Jezebel" to
one's name!

"'Breaking a Butterfly,' Lissy, please! Now don't tell me you never

heard of it, because I am perfectly sure Bobby never did, and that
makes three of us."

"I never did, Kitty, honestly I didn't. I don't believe it's in the
library, unless it is one of those old, old ones that haven't been
catalogued yet. Old Mrs. Spooner left them to us, you know. They
are in the inner room, waiting to be catalogued. I can't seem to get
time——"

"I'll go look; may I? And, oh, Bobby, do you want to be a perfect

angel and look up Orchis Spectabilis in Gray? We had such a dispute
last night, Aunt Johanna and I! She says its habitat is—well, find out
for me, there's a dear!"

Kitty vanished into the inner room, leaving the other two staring
blankly at each other.

"Spec—what did she say, Bobby?"

"Spectabilis!" Bobby spoke hardily, as became a Corona senior,

though he had not "taken" Latin since his first year in High School.
"Respectable, I think it means; something bound in gray, she said.
Let's see what there is in gray, Lissy! Here's the Life of Hannah
More; that would be respectable, what?"

"I don't believe she means that!"

Melissa was fluttering very prettily. It was a most wonderful thing

to be alone with Bobby in the Library, where she so often dreamed
of him, little wistful gray dreams with only here and there a gleam of
rose-color! How tall he was, how handsome, how strong! how like
that beautiful bust! and Melissa glanced at the Olympian Hermes.
Well, Bobby's hair did curl, but otherwise——

"I don't believe she means that," Melissa repeated. "Nobody has
ever taken that out since I've been here. I looked into it once,
dusting, you know; it looked awfully poky. Perhaps——" Melissa put
forth the suggestion timidly, "she meant Gray was the person who
wrote it. There's the Elegy, you know!"

"Of course!" Bobby responded heartily. "Sure thing! 'Curfew shall

not ring to-night!' We learned that at High School, didn't we, Lissy?"
He smiled kindly on the girl. "Gray's the chap; trot him out!"
 Melissa had not the heart to correct him. How could she? Why
should she? Men didn't have to know poetry, except ministers, she
supposed, and the like of that. She meekly brought the works of
Thomas Gray, and they looked through them together, making a very
pretty picture, Kitty thought, as she peeped through the crack of the
door. Bobby's fair hair—all men ought to have fair hair, of course—
was bent over Melissa's little dark head, both looking at the same
page. He sighed, which Kitty thought distinctly encouraging.

"Seems rather piffle, doesn't it?" asked the youth dolefully,

looking up from "The Progress of Poesy." "Kitty knows an awful lot
about books, doesn't she, Lissy? I suppose you do, too!"

"Oh, no!" Melissa replaced Gray with a look of relief. "I ought to,
Bobby, but I don't. I love a good story, and I read travels some, and
the like of that, but—oh, no! I don't begin—why, Kitty ought to be
librarian here, by good rights. She knows an awful lot, simply awful.
Why, she takes out books that no one else ever looks at, and reads
'em same as she would a detective story. Have you read 'The Hollow
Needle,' Bobby?"

"Yes! Great, isn't it? Say, have you got any of his stuff? You never
can get hold of one at Corona; they're out all the time. That chap is
top-hole, no mistake."

When Kitty next peeped out, the two were surrounded by the
works of a certain popular author. Bobby was discoursing upon their
various merits, Melissa hanging on his words. Should she slip away
and leave them together? Perhaps hardly, the first time. A glance at
the clock showed that it was nearly closing time; at the same
moment voices were heard in the entrance hall. Kitty slipped back
into the main room and joined her two companions in time to greet
Nelly Chanter and an attendant swain, also a Corona student, who
came in quest of "something good to read!" Nelly fell instantly into
what Kitty and I called Chanterics, embracing her friend with an
ardor which made the two youths blink and blush.
 "You darling Thing! I haven't seen you for forty years! Between
my teaching and your driving, Kitty, I never see you! Except when
you pick me up and give me a delicious turn, like an Angel, as you
did the other day. How do, Lissy? How do, Bobby? Kitty, this is Mr.
Myers, Bobby's roommate. He was at the Party, you know. Oh, and
let me introduce Miss Wibird, Joe! I never do know how to
introduce, do you? he! he! I should have introduced him to her,
shouldn't I, Kitty?"

"We might all begin over again," said Kitty. "I am sure Mr. Chanter
has never been introduced to me! Mr. Chanter, I am glad to have the
honor of making your acquaintance!"

It takes little to amuse Youth. The Library, fortunately empty of

readers, rang with shouts of glee.

"Isn't she killing?" whispered Nelly to her companion. "She's just

as witty as she can be, all the time. She knows a most terrible lot,
too, but you'd never know it, she's so darling and nice. Kitty, do tell
us something good to read! Not deep things, you know. Mr. Myers
has to read enough deep things at Corona, don't you, Mr. Myers? Ha!
ha!"

Kitty laughed bravely with them, wondering why she was not
amused. She must be growing old. She named at random the latest
work of a great English novelist. Nelly exclaimed in dismay.

"Oh, Kitty, that's awfully deep, you know it is. Why, it's just full of
religion and politics. Isn't there anything of Summer Sweeting's in?
Don't you love her books? I cried quarts over 'My Burnished Dove':
perfect quarts! Do you think Summer Sweeting is her own name or a
nom de plume?"

"Too much sweetening for me!" said Bobby gruffly: one didn't
have to make believe when it was one's sister. "I wouldn't give one
of Sherlock Holmes for all she ever wrote."
 "That's right!" chimed in Mr. Myers. "I don't stand for crying when
you don't have to, what?"

"Oh, Joe! I love a sweet, sad book! Don't you love a sweet, sad
book, Kitty? Who is your favorite author, Joe? I've often meant to
ask you."

Unconsciously, Nelly's voice dropped a little; her blue eyes rested

tenderly on the open countenance of Mr. Myers, known to his mates
as "Jometry Joe," owing to certain exploits of his in the region of
higher mathematics. Mr. Myers looked thoughtful.

"Of course, Ralph Henry Barbour used to be," he said, "and

they're ripping good books still, but I suppose I read more novels
now. I guess there's no one to beat old Sherlock, though Fu Manchu
runs him close."

The talk ranged far and wide through the realm of "Thrillers." At
five o'clock, Kitty proposed that they should all come home with her
for a cup of tea and some of Sarepta's scones, which she had just
been baking.

Accordingly, they closed the Library, with much merriment of

mock formality and many friendly gibes from the lads at the Learned
Ladies of Cyrus. Nelly's swain understood that Miss Wibird read the
Encyclopedia through every year; was that so? Yes, Bobby assured
him; but Miss Ross went her one better, and read it in French. Haw!
haw! New shouts of mirth from both gentlemen at these subtle
witticisms; tinkling peals of laughter from Melissa and Nelly. Kitty
laughed, too, feeling motherly and benignant. What babes they
were!

"But I keep my accounts in Russian," she said gravely, "and say

my prayers in Siamese."

"Haw, haw! Oh, I say!" gasped the collegians. "That is rich!

Russian and Siamese! I bet she does, what?"
 Crossing the Common, the path narrowed, so that only two could
walk abreast. Half consciously, Kitty stepped ahead; the others
followed, two by two. This being seen of John Tucker, who chanced
to be exercising Pilot at the moment, that calm personage
straigthway seemed to fall into a rage. He muttered a pious
execration and unconsciously tightened the reins; Pilot shot ahead
like a rocket, demanding with ears and voice to know what was the
matter.

"Stiddy, boy! stiddy!" muttered John Tucker. "Ca'm down, now. I

didn't mean to rouse ye up. Them young idjits! lettin' her walk alone,
and struttin' an' gigglin' along with Lissy Wibird and Nell Chanter—
great hemlock! Well, stretch out a bit if you're a mind to; do us both
good, I expect."

Sarepta Darwin, paring apples at the kitchen window, saw the

little procession coming across the Common. A spark crept into her
pale blue eyes; she dropped her knife and hastened to the front of
the house. When Kitty, still motherly and benignant, led her guests
up the front garden path, the door opened; Sarepta stood there,
erect, austere, as if she opened the door invariably, instead of on the
rare occasions when she happened to feel like it.

"Why, Sarepta, how nice of you!" said Kitty, surprised "Did you
see us coming? This way, boys and girls!"

She was about to enter the sitting-room, but Sarepta intervened.

"This way!" she said briefly, and indicated the Other Parlor, across
the hall. Now the Other Parlor was a charming room in itself: with
delicate moldings, and hangings of rose-color and pale gray; with
cases of family miniatures, and delightful old pastels; but somehow,
one did not sit there often; it was just a shade formal, a trifle
austere. And after all, why should one ever sit anywhere except in
the Sitting Room? Kitty opened her eyes wide with, "Why, Sarepta?"
but encountered a glance of such icy command that as she told Nelly
afterward, she could hear the ice crackling in her spinal marrow.
 "This way!" repeated Sarepta. "Your aunt has company in there!"
And as Kitty, wondering more and more, shepherded the young
people meekly into the Other Parlor, a steely whisper hissed in her
ear, "Judge Peters—on business!"

CHAPTER XVI
psycho-cardiac processes
Kitty was so pleased with her little party, and so interested in
seeing how many cheesecakes and hot scones the boys could eat
("There were four dozen of them cakes, I counted as I laid them
out," Sarepta announced grimly at supper. "There's one apiece left
for you two folks, and that's all there is. If I was their Mas, I'd give
'em a portion of physic and put 'em to bed!") that she hardly noticed
Judge Peters's quiet departure. When the young people reluctantly
followed a little later, Kitty stood at the window of the Other Parlor,
watching them with shining eyes. Melissa and Bobby walked
together; well, they had to, of course, with that nice Myers boy so
wrapped up in Nelly; dear Nelly! Kitty was so glad! But Bobby's back
was really interested, his shoulders most attentive; and he did not
once turn round to see if she were standing at the window. He
always had, up to now, though of course she never let him see her.
Now—of course he would walk home with Lissy; and then—there
was no train back to Corona before the eight-thirty—if Lissy would
only ask him in to supper!

"Because," said Kitty aloud, "you see, if one could make some one
else—some two else—happy, perhaps it would not hurt so much; do
you think?"
 Lissy did ask him in to supper, in a rapture of wishfulness, in an
anguish of terror lest there should not be enough, lest he should not
like creamed fish and baked potatoes. Bobby hesitated, guessed the
folks were expecting him at home; caught the glance of the sweet
brown eyes, and yielded. There was enough; the simple refection
proved to be his favorite supper. He ate as if cheesecakes and
scones had never existed for him; ate till Lissy glowed with delight
over her own humming-bird's portion; till even Mrs. Wibird felt a thin
stream of cordiality stealing through her poor chilly little heart, and
fetched the plateful set aside for Wilson, mentally promising him "a
good scramble," which he really liked better.

"Gee!" said Master Bobby, surveying the total residue of two

prunes and one molasses cooky, as he pushed his chair back; "I
hope Wilse gets supper with Uncle Marsh, Mrs. Wibird. I don't seem
to have left much, do I? Mother always says my legs are hollow!"

Still with that thread of warmth curling about her heart, Mrs.
Wibird hesitated a moment after leaving the table. For the first time
(except a brief space when Lissy had croup) her house of maternal
instinct was divided against itself. She had always sacrificed Lissy, as
she had herself, to every wish of her son's. Wilson was so particular,
he had to have things just so, or it went to his liver, and made him
bilious! He commonly occupied the sitting-room in the evening; he
let her and Melissa creep in with their sewing, and sit in the corner,
but callers disturbed him. Could she—how could she?

She glanced at Bobby, cheerfully unconscious; then at her

daughter, flushing, fluttering, the meek little drudge transfigured for
the moment. Her own youth rose up within her and struck.

"You take Robert into the sitting-room, Lissy!" she said. "You can
light the stove if it's chilly. I'll wash the dishes; you go right along!"

Oh, blissful hour in the little stuffy sitting-room, which yet was
chilly this May evening! Oh, friendly blinking of that one red eye of
the baseburner stove! Bobby, comforted by supper, conscious of
tender sympathy fluttering by his side in the low rocking chair,
waxed confidential; told of college pranks, of contests on ball fields
and on the river. Lissy hung on his lips: her own were parted, her
breath came quick; she thought he must hear the beating of her
heart. Her cries of wonder and admiration warmed him still further.
His voice dropped to a lower note. It was awfully nice of Lissy to
care. It was ripping to have some one to talk to; he was awfully
lonely sometimes! Bobby! Bobby! with three sisters, all a-quiver to
share the treasure of your heart—never mind! These things must be.

"I've been awfully unhappy, too, lately!" said Bobby. "Nobody

knows, but——"

Out it all came! His love, his hopes, "seeing Tom was out of the
running, or so everybody said," his bitter disappointment. Out it all
poured in a flood; and little Lissy heard it all with tear-brimmed
eyes, with clasped hands, and soft ejaculations of pity, of sympathy,
of wonder that was almost anger. How could Kitty? How could she?

"But it is all over now!" Bobby rose and straightened his shoulders
manfully. "Of course there will never be any one like her in the
world, but I promised I would never say anything more, and I never
will. As she says, there's lots to life even if one isn't happy; and she
thinks we ought not to stand for kicking because things are the way
they are: not that she put it just that way. And I shall be real glad to
have you for a sister, Lissy, and I'll tell you everything. You must tell
me things, too!" Mr. Chanter added as an afterthought, reaching for
his hat. "I'm sure you must have lots of things; good-night, Lissy!"

He took her hand; hesitated a moment, and then took the other.

"Good-night, Sister Lissy! What soft little hands you have! What
makes them shake so? I mustn't keep you standing here in the
cold!"

Still he hesitated, holding the little hands in his. How they

trembled! How they seemed to nestle in his! Kitty shook hands like
another chap: her wrists were like steel. Well, of course, driving that
way, she had to be strong. It was very pleasant to hold the little
trembling hands; if they were to be brother and sister—perhaps?
The girls were always bothering him to kiss them—Bobby decided it
would be "too cheeky for the first time," and finally departed,
warmer about the heart than he had felt since Madam Flynt's party.

And Melissa? I believe her little cold attic glowed that night with
all the warmth and light of paradise, and that she went to sleep
lulled by the sound of silver bells.

Kitty turned away happily from her window, and crossed the hall
to the sitting-room, humming under her breath.

"What is that tune you are forever humming, child?" Miss Johanna
looked up from her knitting.

"'The Duke of Lee?' Oh, it's an old, old English song and dance.
Mother used to sing it, don't you remember? And Tommy and I used
to dance it: he was the Duke of Lee, and I was the gentlewoman of
high qualitee. Surely you remember! How handsome you look, Aunt
Johanna!"

"Fiddlededee!" said Aunt Johanna; she got up and poked the fire.
It was true none the less. The lady was slightly flushed; her dark
eyes were very bright; the purple broadcloth, with touches of gold
about the bodice, was extremely becoming; certainly she was a
handsome woman.

"It's true!" said Kitty. "Just look in the glass and see if it isn't! I
wonder the dear Judge managed to go at all, with you looking so,
and the violets smelling so, and the fire crackling so, and—he might
have waited to see me!" Kitty was hovering over the bowl of violets,
drawing deep breaths of fragrance. "Business, Sarepta said. Nothing
wrong, I hope, Auntie?"
 "N-no!" said Miss Johanna, slowly and meditatively. "Nothing
precisely wrong that I know of. Nothing half as wrong as this
knitting!" she added briskly. "Come here, child! You and Sarepta
Darwin together having accomplished this atrocity of teaching me to
knit, are bound to see me through. I seem to have done something
queer here!"

Kitty sat down beside her on the leather sofa, and for some
minutes both were absorbed in the mysteries of purling, compared
with which, Miss Johanna declared, those of Eleusis were
kindergarten play.

"That's a ridiculous tune!" she remarked presently. "It keeps

jigging through my head so, I can't keep my feet still. So you used
to dance it with Tommy Lee. Tommy was a nice boy; I always liked
him. Do you ever hear from him, Kitty?"

"No," said Kitty quietly. "I believe he is doing very well—Mr.

Chanter heard of him last winter from a friend who had met him in
the West—but I don't know that any one has heard directly."

She did not add that, according to Cissy Sharpe, "they claimed"
that Tom Lee had married the widow of a cattle king, and was
spending millions on a marble palace overlooking the Golden Gate;
she did not believe this, but it hurt, somehow. If he would only write
a line; a postal card even! Cissy had heard it in Tinkham; she fixed
greedy eyes on Kitty as she spoke. Millions of money, they claimed!
A handsome woman, ten years older than what he was. She
presumed Kitty knew more about it than what she did; ha! ha!

"There!" Kitty handed Miss Johanna her knitting and took up her
own. "That's all clear, dear. Now knit straight on, ten rows, and then
I'll show you about the neck."

A long silence followed, broken only by clicking needles and

purring fire. Presently Miss Johanna spoke, abruptly:
 "Elderly marriages are ridiculous! Grandpa Westcott to the
contrary notwithstanding. Ridiculous!"

Kitty started, then looked up wondering. "Are they?" she said

vaguely. "And what about Grandpa Westcott, Aunt Johanna?"

Miss Johanna looked a little confused. "My dear," she said, "I was
just thinking aloud. I was in a referee, as old Mr. Weller says.
Nothing of importance; and then I thought of Grandpa Westcott;
that's all!"

"Did he elderly marry?" Kitty roused herself with a little effort. If it

were true, what did anything else matter? But that was no reason
why she should be an unsociable curmudgeon.

"Tell me about him, Aunt Jo! dear Father never had time to tell
me family stories, and blessed Mother didn't know them, I suppose.
Let's have a good tell now!"

She looked up brightly. Miss Johanna returned the smile, not quite
with her usual crisp composure. Her fine eyebrows lifted and knitted
in a curious little way they had when she was disturbed; her laugh
rang not wholly clear.

"I certainly cannot leave you in ignorance about Grandpa

Westcott's third marriage!" she said. "I wonder at John; but he never
cared about Family. Little White Lily didn't know, of course. Her
grandfather was an archangel and her grandmother a seraph; good
gracious! Suppose Egeria should hear me! Well, my dear, you shall
have your 'tell'; I have brought it upon myself."

Miss Johanna paused to pick up a brand with the tongs and lay it
carefully on top of the back-log. Kitty, turning the heel of her
stocking, prepared for a pleasant season. She loved "tells," and Aunt
Johanna was the ideal story-teller.
 "Grandpa Westcott," the lady began, "my great, your great-great,
was one of the best men that ever lived. I remember him well; tall,
dignified, handsome: the only person I ever saw in a queue. He had
had two wives, both patterns in every way. The first—she was a
Siddall of Trimount, and a Beauty—the Stuart portrait—had no
children and died young. The second was my grandmother,
Katharine Turner; you are named for her, of course, and you look like
her. She was not altogether plain, either," said Miss Johanna dryly,
with a glance at the lovely face that smiled down from the wall in an
exquisite pastel. "She had four children and lived to see them all
grown up and settled in life, and to be the delight of her
grandchildren's hearts. Then, when she was sixty and Grandpa
seventy, she died quite suddenly, and Grandpa went all to pieces.
Naturally! he was a very affectionate man, and for fifty years he had
been told every day what to eat, drink and avoid, what shirt to put
on, and where his socks were. More than that, he had been listened
to, which is the most necessary thing for a man. He mourned and he
moaned, he moaned and he mourned, till at last old Delia, who had
been with him thirty of the fifty years, sent to the City for Uncle
Doctor. I can just remember old Delia. She had large white teeth,
and used to let me scribble on them with a pencil: horrid child! She
sang old Irish songs as no one else ever did: I wish you could have
heard her sing, 'Irish Molly O!'"

Miss Johanna broke off to sing, in a high, clear little voice:

 "'She's galliant, she's beautiful,
She's the fairest one I know;
She's the primrose of Ireland,
All for my guinea, oh!
And the only one entices me
Is Irish Molly O,
Molly O!'

"Well! So Delia sent for Uncle Doctor, and he came. 'Mr. Doctor,'
she said, 'your Da is looking for his dead clo'es. If you don't find a
woman for him to marry, I'll have to marry him myself, and fine I'd
look cocking in the parlor, d'ye see?"

"'Bless my soul!' says Uncle Doctor, 'I see. I'll attend to it, Delia.'

"So Delia went back to her pots and pans, and Uncle Doctor, after
thinking a little, went down the street and called on Aunt Elizabeth.
Aunt Elizabeth was Grandma's sister; they were like a pair of gloves,
only she was a single woman.

"'Auntie,'" says Uncle Doctor, 'would you mind marrying Father?'

"'Bless my soul, Nathaniel!' says Aunt Elizabeth. So he told her

what Delia said, and they talked it over. She was a sensible woman
and fond of Grandpa. By and by, back he goes to Grandpa. 'Father,'
he says, 'I want you to put on your hat and go down street and ask
Aunt Elizabeth to marry you.'

"'Bless my soul!' says Grandpa. 'She wouldn't have me, Nathaniel!'

"'I think she would,' says Uncle Doctor.

"'And what would Katharine say?' says Grandpa.

"'She would say, "Put on your hat, and don't forget your muffler."'
 "So Uncle Doctor put on the hat and muffler for him and saw him
out of the door, headed down street; and he and Aunt Elizabeth
were married next day, and had ten happy years together. So there
is that."

Miss Johanna rolled up her knitting briskly, and rose from her
seat. "But one swallow doesn't make a summer, Kitty, and one pair
of old f— of dear old things doesn't make folly the less foolish. I am
going upstairs, my dear. If you are watering the plants, you might
just change the water for those violets: they are drooping a little."

"Dear things! so they are!" Kitty rose, too, and bent lovingly over
the bowl. "The new ones are due to-morrow, aren't they, Auntie?"

"I don't know anything about the new ones!"

Miss Johanna spoke rather snappishly from the door.

"We may all be dead to-morrow, and very likely the best thing for
us. They would be nice for our funerals!" she added rather
enigmatically from the stairs: and the door of the Red Indian Room
closed shortly behind her.

Judge Peters seemed to have a good deal of business to transact

with Miss Johanna. He came regularly once a week, almost always
during the hour of Madam Flynt's drive. This puzzled Kitty, used all
her life to being the Judge's pet and playmate. He could not be
vexed with her, for his smile and greeting when they met was as
affectionate as ever, even more so perhaps. He pressed her hand
very tenderly on the steps one day, and said, "God bless you, my
dear child!" in a way that brought the tears to Kitty's eyes. Yet he
never came to see her nowadays!

"I do hope Aunt Johanna's business is all right!" she said to

Madam Flynt one day, when that lady had brought her in after the
drive for a little visit.
 "I hope so!" said Madam Flynt. "Why shouldn't it be? Johanna is
an excellent woman of business, I have always heard."

"Oh, it's only—well, Judge Peters comes pretty often, and—it may
be all my imagination, but she seems rather troubled sometimes
after he is gone. I ought not to speak of this, perhaps, but—Mother
always used to come to you, didn't she, Madam Flynt?"

Madam Flynt took off her gold spectacles to wipe her eyes.

"She did, my dear. That sweetest flower of all the world used to
bring her little troubles to me: she never had any big ones, bless
her! she didn't like to bother John about the price of butter, she said.
She called me her Cousin Confessor; as if she ever had anything to
confess! But about Johanna—wait a moment, my dear!"

The door opened, and Miss Croly appeared with the inevitable
milk posset.

"I will take it in ten minutes, Cornelia. I am busy now."

"It is the regular hour——" Miss Croly began mildly; but she was
cut short.

"I will take it in ten minutes!" Madam Flynt raised her voice, a
rare thing with her. "There is a gazelle in the garden, Cornelia!"

Miss Croly vanished without a word. Kitty opened wondering eyes;

Madam Flynt waved her hand.

"She understands. We have our private code, my dear. Though

exasperating at times, Cornelia Croly is no fool. She will be back in
ten minutes. Kitty, my child——" Madam Flynt spoke with kindly
emphasis—"don't be disturbed about your Aunt Johanna and the
Judge. They know each other like two old shoes."

"Of course! I was only afraid——"

 "You needn't be afraid. You would be glad, I should think,
wouldn't you? Edward Peters is the very salt of the earth, and he has
been in love with her all his life. It's the Cyrus way!" Madam Flynt
added rather pettishly. "One-idea'd people: that's why they are
mostly spinsters and bachelors. Well, Kitty! What is it?"

Kitty had risen from her low stool, pale and wide-eyed.

"You don't mean," she faltered; "Madam Flynt, you cannot mean
that they——"

Madam Flynt nodded her cap-ribbons into a perfect dance of

triumph. "I mean that they are probably going to marry each other,"
she announced. "I certainly hope they are! Why upon earth
shouldn't they? Kitty, do you suppose the affections run down like a
clock if they are not wound up in the early twenties? Nothing of the
sort! A man of sixty needs a wife as much as a boy of twenty; more,
in many cases! And if ever," she added emphatically, "a woman
needed a sensible man to take care of her, and keep the bees out of
her bonnet, that woman is Johanna Ross! There! Give me a kiss, my
dear, and then run along, and tell Cornelia Croly, as you go, that she
may bring in her noxious draught. She doesn't sleep at night if I
don't take it regularly. Most exasperating woman—and, Kitty!" she
called the girl back to add impressively; "if you meet your Uncle
Edward on the steps to-day give him a kiss, and tell him you are
thankful for your mercies!"

Was Madam Flynt in league with Occult Powers? An already

sufficiently bewildered Kitty did meet Judge Peters on the steps, just
coming out of Ross House. Some strong emotion had broken up his
usual courtly calm; his face was suffused, his eyes shone.

"Kitty!" he cried. "Kitty, I——" He bent and kissed her forehead.

"She will tell you!" he murmured, with a gesture toward the house.
"Blessed,-blessed——" He waved his hand, almost (poor Kitty
thought) like Mr. Jordano, and departed with long, hasty strides.
 Kitty hesitated a moment at the sitting-room door, dreading she
hardly knew what. Strong emotions shook her like a leaf in these
days, she did not ask herself why.

"Foolish creature!" she murmured.

She need have had no fear; Miss Johanna was pale, and her eyes
showed traces of tears, but she was entirely calm.

"Sit down, Kitty, my dear!" she said. "Here, by me, on the sofa. I
have something to tell you. Do you remember my quoting Peggotty
the other day? Barkis was willin', you know, and David didn't
understand the message; 'Drat the man! he wants to marry me,'
said Peggotty. Well, my child, drat the Judge, he wants to marry me!
I haven't spoken of it before, because if I had decided to say no,
there would have been no occasion; but he is the most obstinate
man I ever saw, in his quiet way; so—I have said yes, Kitty. I told
you, didn't I, it is he who has sent the violets all these years? You
needn't smother me, my dear!"

Kitty had her in her arms, exclaiming, caressing, laughing and

crying, all at once.

"Auntie! Darling, wicked, deceitful Auntie! What a blind bat I have

been! I was afraid—oh! I am so glad, so glad! But you always said
you didn't know who sent them."

"I didn't—exactly—know! I only felt at the back of my head that it

was probably Edward; he is that kind of faithful, doggy person. It's
perfectly ridiculous, as I said. And—my stars!" Miss Johanna was all
in a moment her crispest, most incisive self. "There is no possible
thing that a woman of fifty can be married in except gray or
lavender, and I look like a blown-out tallow dip in either of 'em. Run
after him, Kitty, and tell him I've changed my mind!"
 CHAPTER XVII
kitty sings
Miss Johanna decided finally on moss-green.

"It's emblematic, you see!" she explained to the Misses Bygood,

who had come in state and their best summer silks ("a little early for
them," Miss Almeria admitted, "but something festal—Johanna will
appreciate our motive!") to offer their best wishes.

"Our congratulations," Miss Almeria said impressively, "are for

Edward."

Miss Johanna raised her eyebrows. "Poor Edward!" she said. "Do
you remember John's remark to Mrs. Pringle when Emmy was
engaged? 'I congratulate you, ma'am, on this auspicious and
desolating event!' As I was saying, girls, moss-green is not only
becoming to me, it is also emblematic. Green is for hope, which
springs eternal, you know; moss is appropriate for age. Velvet,
because Edward swears he won't marry me in anything else—no,
Gerie; don't look like that! because he likes it, and I may as well do
something to please him while I can. I am sorry for Edward, but he
has brought it upon himself."

"Johanna is jesting, sister!" Miss Almeria explained kindly. "We

consider Edward an exceptionally fortunate man, Johanna!"

"You are dears, both of you!" Miss Johanna's eyes softened, and
she spoke in a different tone from her usual half-gibing utterance. "I
am very happy, girls, and very thankful, as I ought to be. And—don't
tell, but, when we come back, I am going to try not to be peculiar
any more. Only everybody will say I was changed at marriage!" she
added ruefully. "Do you suppose Cyrus will think me all the more
peculiar for trying not to be?" (As a matter of fact, this is precisely
what Cyrus did think; but this is to anticipate.)
 It was a very quiet wedding, only the few old friends who had
stood by Johanna Ross through all her wayward years, and one new
one. Mr. Jordano, the bride insisted, must be present. She felt like a
criminal in not having a Real Wedding for Cyrus, but Edward could
not abide weddings; you would think he had had a dozen already.
The least they could do was to have it written up in style, and that
this Delicious Creature was sure to do. Mr. Jordano did not know that
he was a Delicious Creature, but he did know that Opportunity
beckoned, and he rose to it. Fortunately the wedding took place the
day before the weekly appearance of the Centinel, and Cyrus read
over its breakfast with mingled feelings, of the Event which only a
"select party of choice spirits," as Mr. Jordano put it, had the
privilege of attending. (Not that Mrs. Sharpe wondered; far from it.
Marrying at that age, Johanna Ross naturally would not wish to have
any more witnesses than were absolutely necessary: Mrs. Sharpe for
one was thankful to be spared such a spectacle.) The Scribe had
been one of the fortunate few bidden to attend the nuptials of Miss
Johanna Ross, a lady who, though long absent from our midst, was
admired and revered by all who had the privilege of her
acquaintance, and our highly-esteemed and justly celebrated fellow
citizen and jurist, the Hon. Edward Peters, Justice of the Supreme
Bench. The ceremony had taken place in the elegant and
commodious mansion of the late Dr. Ross, now the abode of his
charming and talented daughter, Miss Katharine Ross, whose
reputation as an equestrienne of the highest order had spread far
beyond the limits of Cyrus and environs. The spacious parlors of
Ross House were tastily adorned with ferns, emerald moss (to
which, it appeared, the bride was specially addicted) and violets, the
latter in such profusion as to lade the ambient air with perfumes of
Araby the blest. The bride, a superb brunette, wore a confection of
moss-green velvet with gold garniture, and resembled, if Italio might
take the liberty, a rare jewel in an emerald chalice. (Mr. Jordano had
written "cup" at first; but he liked to murmur his copy aloud as he
wrote; and "cup-pup-pup" struck harshly on his ear. He was in
sensitive mood; a tail seemed to wag in the corner of his eye.
"Chalice" came as a happy and satisfying inspiration.)