"I don't remember much of anything about your father. Both of your aunts are dead. You have one cousin somewhere--Margaret's husband married and went South--to Virginia, didn't he? Well, there is no end of Adams connection even if some of them have different names. Captain Grier dropped into the warehouse with a tin box of papers, and your things are to be sent this afternoon. He is coming up this evening, and I've sent for Uncle Win to come over to supper. Then I suppose the child's fate will be settled, and she'll be a regular Boston girl." "I do wonder if Uncle Win will let her stay here? Mother and I have decided that it is the best place." "Do _you_ think it a good place?" He turned so suddenly to Doris that her face was scarlet with embarrassment. "It's splendid," she said when she caught her breath. "I should like to stay. And Aunt Elizabeth will teach me to make pies." "Well, pies are pretty good things, according to my way of thinking. There's lots for little girls to learn, though I dare say Uncle Win will think it can all come out of a book." "Some of it might come out of a cookbook," said Betty demurely. "Your mother's the best cookbook I know about--good enough for anyone." "But we can't send mother all round the world." "We just don't want to," said Warren. Mrs. Leverett smiled. She was proud of her ability in the culinary line. Mr. Leverett looked at Doris presently. "Come, come," he began good-naturedly, "this will never do! You are not eating enough to keep a bird alive. No wonder you are so thin!" "But I ate a great deal of breakfast," explained Doris with naive honesty. "And you are not homesick?" Doris thought a moment. "I don't want to go away, if that is what you mean." "Yes, that's about it," nodding humorously. Warren thought her the quaintest, prettiest child he had ever seen, but he hardly knew what to say to her. When the men had eaten and gone, the dishes were soon washed up, and then mother and daughter brought their sewing. Mrs. Leverett was mending Warren's coat. Betty darned a small pile of stockings, and then she took out some needlework. She had begun her next summer's white gown, and she meant to do it by odd spells, especially when Aunt Priscilla, who would lecture her on so much vanity, was not around. Mrs. Leverett gently questioned Doris--she was not an aggressive woman, nor unduly curious. No, Doris had not sewed much. Barby always darned the stockings, and Miss Easter had come to make whatever clothes she needed. She used to go to Father Langhorne and recite, and Mrs. Leverett wondered whether she and the father both were Roman Catholics. What did she study? Oh, French and a little Latin, and she was reading history and "Paradise Lost," but she didn't like sums, and she could make pillow lace. Miss Arabella made beautiful pillow lace, and sometimes the grand ladies came in carriages and paid her ever so much money for it.