“If he will my snuff-box,” said Kate, laughing. “Heigho--I feel just like a cat in want of a mouse to torment. I wish I knew a victim worthy to exercise my talents upon.” “_Talons_, you mean,” retorted Fanny--“I pity him.” “He would get used to it,” said Kate; “the mouse--the husband, you know--I should let him run a little way, and then clap my claws on him. I’ve seen it tried; it works like a charm.” “Kate, why do you always choose to wear a mask?” asked Fanny; “why do you take so much pains to make a censorious world believe you the very _opposite_ of what you are?” “Because paste passes as current as diamond; because I value the world’s opinion not one straw; because if you own a heart, it is best to hide it, unless you want it trampled on. But I don’t ask you to subscribe to all this, Fanny, with that incomparable Cousin John in your thoughts; there he is--there’s the door-bell--Venus! how you blush! but ‘a stoop in the shoulders.’ How can you, Fanny? Thirty-six years old, too--Lord bless us!” CHAPTER XX. Was this “little Fanny?” this tall, graceful creature of seventeen, the little thing who bade him good-by at Mrs. Chubb’s door, ten years since, with her pinafore stuffed in the corner of her eye? “Little Fanny,” with that queenly presence? Cousin John almost felt as if he ought to ask leave to touch her hand; ah--she is the same little Fanny after all--frank, guileless, and free-hearted. She flies into his arms, puts up her rosy lips for a kiss, and says “_Dear_ Cousin John.” “God bless you,” was all he could find voice to say, for in truth, she was Mary’s own self. Yes--Fanny was very lovely, with those rippling waves of silken hair, and the light and shadow, flitting like summer clouds over her speaking face. Cousin John held her off at arm’s length. Yes, she was very lovely. “How much she had changed!” “And you, too,” said Fanny, seating herself beside him. “You look so much better; the stoop in your shoulders is quite gone; you are bronzed a little, but all the better for that.” “Thank you,” said Cousin John, “more especially as I could not help it, not even to please ‘little Fanny.’” “Ah--but I am no longer _little_ Fanny,” she said, blushing slightly. “I have crammed a great many books into my head since I saw you, and done considerable thinking beside.” “And what has your thinking all amounted to?” asked Cousin John, half playfully, half seriously. “Just to this--that you are the very best cousin in the world, and that I never can repay you for all you have been to the poor, little friendless orphan,” said Fanny, with brimming eyes. “God bless you,” said Cousin John. “I am more than repaid in these last ten minutes.”