“We are very glad to see you, Dorothea,” she said, leaning down and kissing the girl warmly. Her welcome was sincere, for not only was she attracted by Dorothea’s appearance, but the fact that this new cousin had come from England, where the South still counted upon sympathy for their cause, was an additional reason for cordiality. “I thought you were about my age,” she added with an inviting smile. “I am past fifteen,” Dorothea replied. “Then you’re my cousin most!” Harriot insisted. “I’m not fourteen yet, but you’re nearer my age than you are April’s.” “You’re just a baby, Harry,” April teased. “Oh, it’s horrid to be the youngest!” her sister protested. “Your family never want you to grow up.” “I think it’s rather worse to be both the youngest and the oldest,” Dorothea put in, laughing. “Then you’re expected to be both grown-up and a baby, too.” “All the same you’re mostly my age,” Harriot maintained stoutly, and, as if to seal their friendship, she, too, kissed Dorothea enthusiastically. “But that doesn’t make her any more your cousin than she is mine,” April contended. “You needn’t think, Harry, that you are going to have Dorothea all to yourself.” It was said so sweetly that the newcomer, looking up into the face of the radiant girl before her, felt a warm throb in her heart. She was no longer a stranger. Her experiences in New York and Washington had not served to break through the reserve that she came, one day, to recognize as the British side of her character; but her welcome here had none of the English formality to which she was accustomed. This Southern greeting, with its frank cordiality, stirred within her a response hitherto unknown. She was a little puzzled at the dawning of a new day in her outlook upon life. “You girls will have to share a cousin, but she is all my niece,” Mrs. May laughed. “Come in, my dear,” she went on, putting an arm about Dorothea. “You will find that we are without many things to make you as comfortable as we should like; but we are not the least, tiny bit less glad to see you on that account.” She led the way into the breakfast room where a substantial “refreshment” was being prepared for this latest guest. And here, after she had eaten a little, Dorothea told of her experiences in Washington before she started South. “I really did come from England to visit you, Aunt Parthenia,” she said. “You know you wrote many times that you would be glad to see me.” “Of course!” Mrs. May nodded.