"Mary," she called, "I am going to see Aunt Eunice a little while. I shall not be gone long."
"Very well," returned Mary. "You needn't hurry home. I'll come after you, if it gets dark."
Aunt Eunice Whitney lived by herself, in a pretty little house on one of the upper streets of Round Springs. She was quite an old lady; and her husband being dead, and all her children married, she had her house to herself, except when one of her granddaughters was staying with her, and going to school. Aunt Eunice had passed through a great many troubles and sorrows in her time. She was a woman to whom every one who knew her went for advice and counsel in difficulties, and for comfort in sorrow; for she was a very wise woman and a most earnest Christian; and she seemed to know just what to say to every one. She was a distant relation of Dr. Lester's, and Florry, like almost all the young people in Round Springs, called her "Aunt Eunice."
Florry found her old friend knitting, with her large Bible open on the table before her, though she did not seem to be reading. And Aunt Eunice gave the little girl her usual hearty welcome.
"But thee seems to be in trouble, dear," said Aunt Eunice, who was a "Friend," and always spoke after their manner. "What can I do for thee? I don't like to see thy little face so overcast."
"I want to tell you all about it, please, Aunt Eunice," answered Florry, glad that the old lady had "broken the ice" for her. "I am in a great deal of trouble, and I don't know what to do; and father and mother are away."
"Sit down here," said Aunt Eunice, drawing a low chair to her side. "Sit down here, and tell me the whole story."
Florry did so, feeling her heart already a little cheered by Aunt Eunice's ready sympathy. When she had finished, Aunt Eunice sat a few minutes in silence, and then began turning over the leaves of her Bible, as if looking for something.
"Can thee see to read by this light?" she asked, turning to Florry.
"Oh, yes, ma'am," answered Florry.