household until the hour of her departure.
Aunt Gertrude was formidable. Her word was law. And, because she was possessed of a small fortune and a sharp tongue, none dared offend her. Relatives had discovered that the best plan was to suffer her visits in silence and pray for her speedy departure.
Now she was coming to visit the Hardys.
"Aunt Gertrude is coming? Isn't that great?" exclaimed Joe.
Mrs. Hardy looked at her son suspiciously. The Hardy boys had never been known to evince much enthusiasm over Aunt Gertrude's visits before. The worthy lady had a habit of regarding them as though they were still in swaddling clothes and she invariably showed a tendency to dictate as to their food, their hours of rising and going to bed, their companions, and their choice of literature. Many a Sunday afternoon she had thrust on them a weighty volume of Pilgrim's Progress and sat guard over them as they miserably strove to pretend an interest in the allegorical adventures of Bunyan's hero.
"I didn't think you cared for Aunt Gertrude," ventured Mrs. Hardy when she saw that both Frank and Joe were beaming with satisfaction.
"When will she be here?"
"This afternoon, according to her letter.
