s since I came here I
ever had, and I'm not going to have anybody run it down when I'm round.
I'll give him a talking-to this very night. Now, let's just come out and
take one race to the corner and back; I've been proper as long as I can,
and I must do something to let off steam. He's all out of the way and
won't see me. Come on!" And away they went, racing down the street in
the warm noon sun.

After his quiet talk with his aunt, who had gone with him to lead the
way to his room, Charlie no longer felt any doubt of his welcome. Mrs.
Burnam was so like his father in her manner, so bright and brisk, yet so
gentle, that her nephew felt at ease with her at once. There had been
something indescribably motherly in her face, as she sat down on the
edge of the bed, and, taking his hand, drew him down at her side, while
she questioned him about his journey, and the friends he had left behind
him. Then she spoke of his mother so tenderly that the boy's lips
quivered, and two great tears rolled down his cheeks. That was more
than Mrs. Burnam's warm heart could bear. For a moment she let his fresh
sorrow have its way; then she bent forward and put her arm around him,
just as she might have done with Howard.

"I know, Charlie," she said gently, "nobody else can take her place;
but, while you are with us, remember that you are our own boy, and are
as much at home with us as Howard himself. And now come, if you're
ready, and get acquainted with your cousins, while I see about the
lunch."

As Charlie went back to the parlor once more, he was surprised to find
the room deserted and the front door slightly open. With a little shiver
of cold and loneliness, he stepped across the room to close the door,
and stood still, to gaze in astonishment at the sight before him. Up the
middle of the road came two figures, evidently engaged in some mad race.
The boy he recognized at once as being his Cousin Howard; but who was
the small Amazon who rushed along at his side, bareheaded and with her
short, thick hair flying in the wind, as she easily kept pace with the
longer strides of her brother? Surely, this could not be Allie, the
demure little maid who had met him with such easy, quiet grace! Charlie
knew little of girls and their ways; but he had always looked upon them
with a certain distrust, as being all-absorbed in their fine clothes and
their prim deportment. The few he had known in New York had done nothing
to alter his opinion, and it