“Isn’t that what I came for?” demanded Anna Mary obligingly getting down to pull on Beth’s stockings, though the little girl had no idea of receiving that sort of service. It was a hurried toilet, and a hurried breakfast; it impaired Beth’s appetite to feel that her aunt was waiting, first to make her acquaintance, and then to take her out. She could not realize what Anna Mary told her of Mrs. Cortlandt’s needing longer than Beth was giving her to get through her daily duty of reading letters and dictating replies to her secretary. At last she followed Anna Mary to her aunt’s sitting-room door and for the first time shrank somewhat from the ordeal of meeting new relatives. “Yes, come in,” called a pleasant voice as Anna Mary knocked. Beth slipped within the door and stood shyly on the threshold. She saw a slender, dark-eyed lady seated at a table before the hearth. She held out both hands to Beth and cried sweetly: “Is this my dear little niece from the Massachusetts hills? My dear, you don’t know how glad your uncle and I are to have his beloved sister Nannie’s little girl come to us! Come here and let me kiss and kiss you!” [Illustration: BETH RAN OVER TO THE GRACIOUS LADY.] Beth ran over to the gracious lady, melting in the warmth of this tender greeting, spoken in a beautifully modulated voice. She returned Mrs. Cortlandt’s kisses with her warm young cheek pressed against her Aunt Alida’s fragrant cool one, and gave her adoring love to her on the instant. She was a vision such as Beth’s eyes had never rested upon, beautifully gowned, exquisitely dainty, charming and pretty, and young! Beth had never associated aunthood with less than fifty years, basing her impression on Aunt Rebecca. “We are going out immediately, Beth--the dear little quaint name! It precisely suits you, little pigeon!” she cried touching a silver call-bell on the table. “Frieda,” she said to the maid who responded, “call up the stables and bid John have the horses here as soon as he can; in the victoria, tell him, Frieda. And, Frieda, Miss Beth and I will lunch out. Tell Miss Natalie and Miss Alys that their cousin will be here this afternoon when they return from their ride at four. Tell them that they must wait patiently till then to see her. “And now, little Beth, amuse yourself as you can while your aunt has Anna Mary get her ready to take you out for your first glimpse of the marvelous New York shops,” Aunt Alida added when Frieda had withdrawn noiselessly to do her bidding. Beth was already clad in her coat and round hat with the ribbons whose difference of shade was more apparent here than it had been at home. There was no difficulty in amusing herself; Aunt Alida’s sitting-room was a treasure house about which Beth wandered with hands carefully clasped behind her back, inspecting and marveling. The time seemed short until Aunt Alida returned wrapped in heavy furs, her handsome face shaded by the great plumes on her velvet hat.