dividing-wall between the alcoves. Her father here too! It must be for something of importance.
Aunt Augusta was sitting uncomfortably erect on the edge of her chair, with her black kid-gloved hands crossed in her lap, when Reba approached. Her father, clutching his Sunday derby, sat stooped and crestfallen, with his gaze upon the floor. For an instant Reba wondered if she ought to offer to greet them—they never kissed each other, but shake hands, or something like that. They had been separated for three whole months. The expression on Aunt Augusta's face, however, forbade any salute whatsoever. One full glance at it, and Reba knew she was still unforgiven.
"I—I didn't expect you," she began.
"Evidently," snapped Aunt Augusta, with a withering glance.
"I hope everything's all right at home," pursued Reba, tremulously. Absurd, of course, to be afraid of Aunt Augusta now. She was beyond the power of the old despot, of course. And yet
"That's neither here nor there," said Aunt Augusta. "Sit down," she ordered, and Reba obeyed, from habit. Aunt Augusta straightened herself still more. "Your life here goes beyond my worst suspicions," she rebuked. "I never thought a blood relation of mine would come to this. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the business that has brought your father and me here, but to see you, with my own eyes, Rebecca Jerome, exposing yourself in such unmaidenly fashion, as I just have, and in such low and common company, is a shock I shan't soon get over."
"I wasn't exposing myself," Reba burst out. "It
