“Aunt Rebecca, I’m here!” cried Beth, running up the walk. Aunt Rebecca’s hand went to her side. Then she descended a step and caught Beth to her in an embrace such as Beth had never before in all her life received from her. “Beth, Beth, little Beth,” she said; nothing more. But instantly Beth’s regrets at returning vanished completely. Aunt Rebecca surely loved her and wanted her; she must have been “pining” to speak, to clutch Beth like this. Miss Bristead was not the sort of person to allow emotion to master her. In an instant she had regained her self-control and went down to her gate to meet Mrs. Cortlandt and her husband and to urge them to come in. “We are going on to-night, Miss Bristead, thank you,” said Aunt Alida. “Mr. Cortlandt has an important engagement that will force us to hasten back. We have returned Beth to you. It is with unspeakable reluctance. We want her dreadfully this summer, Miss Bristead! I think it right to tell you that we have begged Beth to stay with us, but all in vain. She has been resolutely determined to go to you. We are sorry enough, but--here she is!” Miss Bristead smiled. “I think I need her more than you do, with these three fine children,” she said. Beth recognized in Aunt Rebecca a changed manner, a softening. Once she would not have complimented the young Cortlandts. “Aren’t you going to come in, Aunt Alida?” cried Beth aghast. “No, dear. It is better that we go immediately,” said Aunt Alida. She was wise enough to know that parting would thus be easier to Beth. “Get in again, chicken, and kiss me as hard as you can, to make up for all the days that must pass before you kiss me again,” her uncle ordered her. Beth got in. For a few moments she was hugged breathless by first one then another of her Cortlandt relatives, and then they began all over again. Even Anna Mary kissed her over and over, and blessed her fervently. Then Uncle Jim got out and lifted Beth bodily from the car. He looked at Miss Bristead and smiled, then put Beth’s hands in hers, in token of his renunciation of her for a while. Then the great car moved, turned, slowly started away, amid shouts of farewell and a sob or two from Natalie and Alys. It went down the quiet street, increasing its speed and, turning the corner, was lost to sight. Beth turned to the house, knowing that she must do something to keep from crying. She did not wish to let Aunt Rebecca feel that she regretted being at home again. “You made a sacrifice for me, child; they are much more charming, high-bred people than I expected to see. They are very nice indeed, for New Yorkers. They could have given you a great deal we lack here, Beth. I appreciate your coming, but--I needed you!” “I’m truly glad I came, Aunt Rebecca,” said Beth with perfect truth.