The boy's hand pressed hers convulsively, but he did not speak at first. Presently he said, almost in a whisper, "She is so little,--and so thin! I told Mother I would take care of her. But--I said--I would try not to let go of myself, too." Very tenderly Margaret drew the child down beside her, on a rustic bench that stood under one of the great tulip-trees. In the quiet darkness, she felt his heart open to her even more than it had done yet. In the hour that followed, she learned the story of a wild, faithful nature, full of mischief, full of love. The passionate love for his mother, whom he remembered well; the faithful, scowling devotion to the little sister, whom no one should scold but himself, and whom he shook, and bullied, and protected with a sole eye to her good; all this, and much more, Margaret learned. The two sat hand in hand, and took counsel together. "Oh, it is so good to have some one to talk to," cried Basil. "Isn't it, dear?" said Margaret. "Now you know how I feel with Uncle John away; and--oh, Basil, before I had Uncle John,--when my father died,--oh, my dear! But you are going to be my brother now, Basil,--my dear, dear little brother, aren't you? And you will tell me how to make Susan D. love me. I think you do love me a little already, don't you, Basil?" For all answer, Basil threw his arms round her, and gave her such a hug as made her gasp for breath. "Dear boy," cried Margaret, "don't--kill me! Oh, Basil! I tried to hug Susan D. the other day, and I might as well have hugged the door! She won't even let me kiss her good night; that is, she lets me, but there is no response. Why doesn't she like me, do you think?" "She does!" said Basil. "Or she will, soon as she can get out of herself. Don't you know what I mean, Cousin Margaret? It's as if she had a dumb spirit, like that fellow in the Bible, don't you know? Nobody but me understands; but you will, just once you get inside." "Ah, but how shall I ever get inside?" said Margaret. Basil nodded confidently. "You will!" he said. "I know you will, some time. Oh, Cousin Margaret, mayn't I take her something to eat? She's always hungry, Susan D. is, and I know she won't sleep a mite if she doesn't have anything. I--no, I won't let go again, but it _is_ the meanest, hatefullest thing that ever was done in the world! Now isn't it, Cousin Margaret? Don't you think so yourself?"