His voice had a musical ring; his manner was open and honest. He might be Pointz Barbary's nephew by marriage, but I am sure he was not by nature. "They'll fall in love with one another, those two; you'll see," said Tod to me as we went home. "Did you mark his pleased face when he spoke to her, Johnny--and how she blushed?" "Oh, come, Tod! they tell me I am fanciful. What are you?" "Not fanciful with your fancies, lad. As to you, Mr. Don"--turning to the dog, which had done nothing but growl while we stood before Barbary's gate, "unless you mend your manners, you shall not come out again. What ails you, sir, to-day?" II If love springs out of companionship, why then, little wonder that it found its way into Caramel Cottage. They were with each other pretty nearly all day and every day, that young man and that young woman; and so--what else was to be expected? "We must try and get you strong again," said Mr. Barbary to his guest, who at first, amidst other adverse symptoms, could eat nothing. No matter what dainty little dish old Joan prepared, Mr. Reste turned from it. Mr. Barbary had taken to old Joan with the house. A little, dark, active woman, she, with bright eyes and a mob-cap of muslin. She was sixty years old; quick, capable, simple and kindly. We don't get many such servants now-a-days. One defect Joan had--deafness. When a voice was close to her, it was all right; at a distance she could not hear it at all. "How long is it that you have been ailing, Cousin Edgar?" asked Miss Barbary, one day when they were sitting together. "Oh, some few weeks, Cousin Katrine," he answered in a tone to imitate hers--and then laughed. "Look here, child, don't call me 'Cousin Edgar!' For pity's sake, don't!" "I know you are not my true cousin," she said, blushing furiously. "It's not that. If we were the nearest cousins that can be, it would still be silly." Objectionable, was the word he had all but used. "It is bad taste; has not a nice sound to cultivated ears--as I take it. I am Edgar, if you please; and you are Katrine." "In France we say 'mon cousin,' or 'ma cousine,' when speaking to one," returned Katrine. "But we are not French; we are English." "Well," she resumed, as her face cooled down--"why did you not take rest before? and what is it that has made you ill?"