I was feeling blithe almost jocund. I put a match to my cigar and just then the morning's mail was han­ded in. The first superscription I glanced at was in a handwriting that sent a thrill of pleasure through and through me. It was Aunt Mary's; and she was the per­son I loved and honored most in all the world outside of my own household. She had been my boyhood's idol; maturity which is fatal to so many enchantments had not been able to dislodge her from her pedestal; no it had only justified her right to be there and placed her dethronement permanently among the impossibilities...