It was occupied by two maiden ladies named Barton, aunts to Mr. Barton, and therefore great-aunts to Theodore. Miss Selina, the elder sister, was a tall, gaunt woman, who prided herself on being outspoken. She was sixty-two years of age, but looked younger; whilst her sister, Miss Penelope, was ten years her junior.
If it had been Miss Selina's lot to have lived in some large, busy parish, her services would have been invaluable, for she dearly loved visiting the poor, attending meetings, and generally interesting herself in parochial matters. But Miss Selina was not much liked in her native place. She had a knack of rubbing people the wrong way, of discovering their weaknesses, of being quick to notice their shortcomings, and equally slow to see their good points. That the poor were an ungrateful set, she was always saying, thriftless and wasteful; it was quite useless rendering them assistance: and yet—strange inconsistency—no applicant for help was ever allowed to be sent unsatisfied away from The Nest.
Miss Penelope was not in the least like her sister. Once she had been pretty, and she never for one instant forgot the fact; but it had been the sort of beauty that rarely lasts beyond youth. Miss Penelope's roses had faded; her blue eyes looked washed-out; and there were decidedly ill-tempered lines around her small, button mouth, for the younger Miss Barton did not possess the beauty of a cheerful, happy spirit.
Little Theodore was not particularly fond of either of his aunts, but he decidedly had a preference for Miss Selina. Miss Penelope was his teacher. From half-past nine to twelve o'clock every morning Theodore was at The Nest, given up to the tender mercies of Miss Penelope, who made him spell out little stories about the bad boy who devoured too much cake, and nearly died in consequence, and the good boy who shared his cake with his schoolfellows, and was filled with complacency at his own unselfishness.
Miss Penelope always impressed her pupil with the idea of how kind it was on her part to give so much time to him, utterly regardless of the fact that she was amply remunerated by the child's father.
On the morning after the return of Mr. and Mrs. Barton, Theodore was late in arriving at The Nest. He entered the sitting room with glowing cheeks, and sung his books noisily upon the table. Miss Selina was seated sewing by the window, whilst her sister stood bolt upright by the mantelpiece, her face puckered into its most ill-tempered frown.
"Well, Theodore," the younger lady cried tartly, "you noisy boy? How long do you imagine I have been kept waiting? Look at the clock! It is past ten!"
"I am awfully sorry, Aunt Pen," Theodore responded deprecatingly; "I am really. But I forgot the time. I was busy talking to Jack, Mrs. Barton's little boy, you know. He's not half bad!"
Miss Selina dropped her sewing, and glanced curiously at the child's bright, animated countenance.
"And what do you think of your stepmother?" she queried. "Come, Theodore, I am curious to hear what she is like."