tea
demurely, yes, with all the evident delight of a childish escapade from
their elders. While in the picturesque quaintness of their attire
there was still a formal suggestion of the sect to which their father
belonged, their summer frocks--differing in color, yet each of the same
subdued tint--were alike in cut and fashion, and short enough to show
their dainty feet in prim slippers and silken hose that matched their
frocks. As the afternoon sun glanced through the leaves upon their pink
cheeks, tied up in quaint hats by ribbons under their chins, they made a
charming picture. At least Paul thought so as he advanced towards them,
hat in hand. They looked up at his approach, but again cast down their
eyes with demure shyness; yet he fancied that they first exchanged
glances with each other, full of mischievous intelligence.

"I am your cousin Paul," he said smilingly, "though I am afraid I am
introducing myself almost as briefly as your father just now excused
himself to me. He told me I would find you here, but he himself was
hastening on a Samaritan mission."

"With a box in his hand?" said the girls simultaneously, exchanging
glances with each other again.

"With a box containing some restorative, I think," responded Paul, a
little wonderingly.

"Restorative! So THAT'S what he calls it now, is it?" said one of the
girls saucily. "Well, no one knows what's in the box, though he always
carries it with him. Thee never sees him without it"--

"And a roll of paper," suggested the other girl.

"Yes, a roll of paper--but one never knows what it is!" said the
first speaker. "It's very strange. But no matter now, Paul. Welcome to
Hawthorn Hall. I am Jane Bunker, and this is Dorcas." She stopped,
and then, looking down demurely, added, "Thee may kiss us both, cousin
Paul."

The young man did not wait for a second invitation, but gently touched
his lips to their soft young cheeks.

"Thee does not speak like an American, Paul. Is thee really and truly
one?" continued Jane.

Paul remembered that he had forgotten his dialect, but it was too late
now.

"I am really and truly one, and your own cousin, and I hope you will
find me a very dear"--

"Oh!" said Dorcas, starting up primly. "You must really allow me to
withdraw." To the young man's astonishment, she seized her parasol, and,
with a youthful affectation of dignity, glided from the summer-house and
was lost among the trees.

"Thy declaration to me was rathe