"She died the night I was born,"" said Bob simply. "Almost fifteen years ago."
The sisters must have expected this; indeed, hope that their sister lived had probably deserted them years ago; and yet the confirmation was naturally something of a shock. They clung to each other for a moment, and then Miss Hope, rather to Bob's embarrassment, walked over to him and solemnly kissed him.
"My dear, dear nephew!" she murmured.
Then Miss Charity, more timidly, kissed him too, and presently they were all sitting down quietly on the porch, checking up the long years.
When Bob's tin box was finally opened, and the marriage certificate of his parents, the picture of his mother in her wedding gown, and a yellowed letter or two examined and cried over softly by the aunts. Miss Hope began to piece together the story of their lives since Bob's mother had left them. Bob and Betty had found Faith's photograph in the famuly album, but Miss Hope brought out the old Bible and showed them where her mother had made the entry of the marriage of his mother and father.
"They went away for a week for their wedding trip, and then came back to get a few things for housekeeping," said the old lady, patting Betty's hand where it lay in her lap. Bob was still looking over the Bible. "Then they said
