“Reinette, Reinette!” she repeated, as with clasped hands, and head bent forward in the attitude of intense listening, she heard the whole story Phil told, and laughed a little to herself at the ludicrous description of the Fergusons, and the impression they made upon the stranger. “I can imagine just how cold and haughty, and proud she grew, and how those great eyes blazed with scorn and incredulity, if it is my Reinette he means,” she thought; “but it cannot be. There is some mistake.” Then as the name Queenie was spoken she half rose to her feet and laid both hands upon her mouth to force back the glad cry which sprang to her lips. There could be no longer a doubt. This foreigner, this girl from France, this cousin of the Rossiters, this near relation of the Fergusons, whoever they might be, was _her_ Queenie, her _darling_, whom she loved with such devotion as few women have ever inspired in another. How she longed to rush into the next room and pour out question after question concerning her friend; but this she could not do; she was only a seamstress and must remain quiet, for the present at least, for she did not know how the Rossiters would like her to claim acquaintance and friendship with their kinswoman. So she resumed her work while the talk in the next room flowed on, always of Queenie, as they called her because Phil did, and in whom the mother and sisters were so greatly interested. They had intended stopping at the sea-side for the summer, but now they spoke of an earlier return to Merrivale on Queenie’s account, a plan of which Phil highly approved, for he would far rather be at home than there, especially as his mother was improving daily. “And Anna? How is she?” Ethel asked. “Does she take kindly to our cousin, or is she jealous of her, as of us?” This mention of Anna reminded Phil of the Miss La Rue, who had written to his aunt, and in whose identity with her friend, Queenie had been so much interested. “By the way,” he said, “there’s a dressmaker here somewhere, a Margery La Rue, from Paris, whom Queenie thinks she knows, and over whom she goes into rhapsodies. Do you know her, and is she the person who wrote to Aunt Lydia with regard to her business?” A warning “sh-sh” came from both the young ladies, with a nod toward the slightly open door, indicating that the person inquired for was there. Then the voices were lowered and the door was shut, and the wonder and interest increased as Ethel and Grace heard all which Reinette had said of their dressmaker, whose taste and skill they esteemed so highly that they had suggested her going to Merrivale, but did not then know that she had written to their aunt, for the girl was very reticent concerning herself and her business, and only spoke when she was spoken to.