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“I didn’t feel that I could afford them,” said Joe defensively, “and I didn’t just like to take them as a gift.”

“Land sakes, you needn’t be so proud, Joseph Faulkner! I guess I’m your mother’s own half-sister, ain’t I? And if that doesn’t give me the right to buy a pair of overshoes for you—Hmph! I never heard such foolishness. You take those wet shoes off directly and I’ll bring you up a cup of ginger-tea. Fine thing it would be to have you sick on my hands the very first week you’re here!”

Joe went up, smiling to himself, and obeyed directions. Only, when Aunt Sarah passed a steaming cup of ginger-tea in to him he didn’t play quite fair. He gave it a trial, to be sure, but he didn’t like it, and if Aunt Sarah had been listening she might have heard one of the guest room windows cautiously raised. Let us hope that the ginger-tea had no ill effects on Aunt Sarah’s shrubs!

Damp feet did not affect Joe’s appetite, and, watching him eat, Aunt Sarah dared hope that he was not in for a serious illness!