Eve had no idea who or where was Cousin Sarah Cray, but she agreed to anything that would take Jack away from the coast. It was very cold now at Romney; the Sound was dark and rough all the time, the sea boomed, the winds were bitter. They had therefore journeyed inland, Jack and Eve, Cicely and her grandfather, leaving Miss Sabrina to guard the island-home alone. When they reached Gary Hundred and the softer air, Jack began to revive; Eve too revived, she came back to daily life again. One of the first things she said was: "I ought not to be staying here, Cicely; you must let me go to the hotel; your cousin is not my cousin." "She's Jack's." "Do you mean by that that Jack must stay, and if he does, I shall? But it isn't decent; here we have all descended upon her at a moment's notice, and filled up her house, and tramped to and fro. She doesn't appear to be rich." "We are all as poor as crows, but we always go and stay with each other just the same. As for Cousin Sarah Cray, she loves it. Of course we take her as we find her." "We do indeed!" was Eve's thought. "It is all very well for you," she went on, aloud. "But I am a stranger." "Cousin Sarah Cray doesn't think so; she thinks you very near--a sister of her cousin." "If you count in that way, what families you must have! But why shouldn't we all go to the hotel, and take her with us? There's an idea." "For one reason, there's no hotel to go to," responded Cicely, laughing. They continued, therefore, to stay with Cousin Sarah Cray; they had been there ten days, and Jack was so much better that Eve gladly accepted her obligations, for the present. She accepted, too, the makeshifts of the rambling housekeeping. But if the housekeeping was of a wandering order, the welcome did not wander--it remained fixed; there was something beautiful in the boundless affection and hospitality of poverty-stricken Cousin Sarah Cray.