“Surely it is a miracle that age and white hair should make a woman more beautiful.”
But it was not the age, the white hair: it was the transfiguration of years of self-sacrifice and ministering to others.
“Hetty,” said Dr. Eben, as they drew near Dr. Macgowan's gate, “what is this name by which the village people call you? I heard it on everybody's lips, but I could not make it out.”
Hetty colored. “It is French for Aunt Hibba,” she replied. “They speak it as if it were one word, 'Tantibba.'”
“But there was more to it,” said her husband. “'Bo Tantibba,' they called you.”
“Oh, that means merely 'Good Aunt Hibba,'” she said confusedly. “You see some of them think I have been good to them; that's all: but usually they call me only 'Tantibba.'”
“Why did you call yourself 'Hibba'?” he said.
“I don't know,” replied Hetty. “It came into my head.”
“Don't they know your last name?” asked her husband, earnestly.
“Oh!” said Hetty, “I changed that too.”