In after-years Cynthia looked back upon the first hatch as one of the most depressing events in her life. The children in disgrace, Edith silent and woe-begone in her own room, she and Jack watching hour after hour in the big cellar for the chickens that never came, and, above all, the impending arrival of the second Mrs. Franklin.
Aunt Betsey journeyed down from Wayborough as soon as she heard the news. They did not know she was coming until they saw one of the station carriages slowly approaching the house, with Miss Trinkett's well-known bonnet inside of it. She waved her hand gayly, and opened the subject at once.
"Well, well," she cried, "this is news indeed! I want to know! Nephew John going to be married again! Just what I always thought he had best do for the good of you children. Have you seen the bride, and what is she like?"
It was a warm June day, and the Franklins were on the piazza when this was shouted to them from the carriage in their aunt's shrill voice. Edith writhed. Though the news was all over Brenton by now, this would be a fine bit for the driver to take back.
Jack and Cynthia offered to help Aunt Betsey to alight, but she waved them aside.
"Don't think you must help me, my dears. This good news has put new life into me. How do you all do?" giving each one of her birdlike kisses, and settling herself in a favorite rocking-chair.
The younger children ran to her, hoping for treasures from the carpet-bag.
"I do declare," exclaimed she, "if I didn't forget all about you in the news of the bride! Never mind; wait till next time, and I'll bring you something extry nice when I come to see the bride."
"What's a bride?" asked Willy.
"La, child, don't you know? They haven't been kept in ignorance, I hope?"