“I’m very well, thank you,” said Azalea. “How are you?” Jim made a noise in his throat to show that he meant well, but no one could tell what words he was trying to say. “Do you live near here?” the little girl inquired. Jim pointed over his shoulder. “We come from up mountain.” “You’re not brother and sister!” exclaimed the girl. Jim wondered what Azalea would say. He was very proud of her. She seemed to him like a humming bird that had come to live among wrens, and he wondered if she would be ashamed of him? He was a happy boy, who wasted no time in thinking about uncomfortable things, but now, suddenly it came over him that he was rather a stupid chap, with trousers that were too long for him, and a waist that was too short in the sleeves, and bare feet and a freckled face. Azalea’s clothes were new, and anyway, his mother knew much more about dressing girls than she did about dressing boys. And then no matter how he dressed or how he tried he never could look like Azalea! She was speaking now, and he put aside his thoughts to listen. “Jim’s father and mother took me in,” she was saying softly, “and they treat me like I was their own. My mother died just a little while ago, and my father—well, I never saw him at all—and now I say my name is McBirney, just like Jim’s. He’s James Stuart McBirney. I’m Azalea—they let me be called Azalea McBirney.” It was beautifully done—lovingly done. Her pleasant voice caressed the words, her gratitude put a little dew into her eyes. The other girl stood listening and looking and “Oh!” she said. Then she looked at Jim and smiled and said “Oh,” once more. And after that she murmured, “Azalea! How pretty! My name is Carin Carson, and we’ve just moved here. I don’t know anyone and I’m dreadfully lonesome. Couldn’t you come in and play for a little while?” “Thank you,” said Azalea, “I s’pose we could. We really came down here to see this house, but we didn’t know anyone was living in it. We thought it would be such fun to see a house that no one had lived in for years and years.” “Did you? Why, so did I. And so did papa and mamma. It’s a beautiful old house, isn’t it? We find something new about it almost every hour. Why, this morning what do you think we found?” The children shook their heads. “A secret staircase! Yes, we did. It runs up from a sitting room in that far wing to a bedroom above. There’s no door you can see—only panels that slide in the wainscoting. It’s more fun! Wouldn’t you like to see it?” “I’d just love to see it. But your ma—would she like us to come in? I don’t believe I’d like to come in unless your ma said we might.” “Well, you _are_ particular,” laughed Carin. “You must have been very strictly brought up. I’ll go ask my mamma, if you’ll wait a minute. Come in and sit on this bench.”