We had not said a word. I stood smiling at her, and she, as was her custom, would not speak until her survey was done. Very deliberately she looked me over. I had seen her examine Young Hickory, lineal descendant of Andrew Jackson’s famous Truxton in the same way. I was eager to say something and get to Eloise. I had caught a glimpse of her face at the surrey’s door. "I thought you would grow into that," Aunt Lucretia remarked, as she readjusted her glasses. Then, as if to impress on me her long expressed thought, she added, "You have grown beautifully up to your pedigree, Jack." I laughed. "Well, if you have passed on me, here goes," I said boisterously, as I seized her around the neck and gave her a kiss, which knocked off her glasses. "Tut—tut, Jack, that will do! Kissing is silly and thoroughly unsanity. There is Eloise waiting for you—but no kissing—no hugging her—none of it," she added. I saw the straight, fine figure draw back half haughtily into the carriage, and a half-protesting look flash for an instant over the pretty face, profiled through the open space. She threw back her head in the old tribute-demanding way, and her half-closed lids veiled her eyes under great curving, brown-red brows. I caught a gleam of the old daring fun in them, as she smiled and held out both her hands, taking mine. "Awfully glad to see you, Jack—welcome home." My heart betrayed itself in the quick glance I gave her. She had developed so wonderfully in those four years. And how I had longed to see her! She sat smiling kindly into my eyes; I stood looking sillily into hers, holding both of her hands in mine, forgetful of Aunt Lucretia, and with no word that I could say to Eloise. "Eloise," I began haltingly at last, "is it—have you—is it really you?" I bent down to kiss her, but she fenced away and drew back smiling. I dropped her hand, hurt. "Jack," and her tone tried to compensate me, "behave now—everybody is looking." Then she added louder, "Have you really grown into this handsome chap—and no lameness any more?" "Tut—tut," broke in Aunt Lucretia, half irritated, "you two make me tired. Of course he has—you have both grown wonderfully up to your pedigree—I always said so—nothing strange in that. And as you are both grown now," she added patronizingly and with the old return of authority, "I intend to marry you to each other before Christmas—see if I don’t." I blushed and Eloise smiled—a trace of the old fun-loving tease breaking across the corners of her mouth. Her beautiful clear blue-hazel eyes smiled up into mine, full of the old fun and daring. I bent over her. "Eloise, aren’t you really going to kiss me?" "It is unsanitary, Jack,—and—" she glanced at Aunt Lucretia—"bad form and—" I turned, hurt, and shook hands with old Thomas, the driver. "Mighty glad to see you back home, Marse Jack, mighty glad!" said he.