“Shan’t I go up to see if I can do anything for her?” said Hatty, eagerly.
“She will be down soon, I think; but you may go,” said the mother, pleasantly.
Hatty ran up stairs, and knocked very gently on Aunt Barbara’s door.
“Who is it? What do you want?” answered Aunt Barbara’s voice from within.
“It is Hatty. Can I do anything for you?” said the little girl.
“No!” was at first the decided answer; then followed a sudden call “Stop, stop, child. Come in a moment.”
Hatty stepped in, but felt like drawing back as Aunt Barbara stood there, half dressed, with her grey hair uncovered, and her thin, shrivelled arms bare.
“Don’t stare as if you were frightened,” said Aunt Barbara, quickly. “Old people are not generally very beautiful to look at!”
“Can I do anything for you?” said Hatty, pleasantly.
“Yes, if you want to. I can’t find my pocket. Perhaps you can see it.”