n came in, a tall young man, holding out his hand
and smiling a wonderful and beautiful smile.

"Aunt Caroline. I'm Antony Fairfax from New Orleans. I've just reached
New York, and I came, of course, at once to you."

* * * * *

Not very much later, as they all stood about the table talking, Bella
uncurled and once upon her feet, astonishingly tall for twelve years
old, stood by Fairfax's side, while Gardiner, an old-fashioned little
figure in queer home-made clothes, flushed, delicate and timid, leaned
on his mother. The older woman had stopped sewing. With her work in her
lap she was looking at the seventh son of her beautiful sister of whom
she had been gently, mildly envious all her life.

Bella said brusquely: "You've got an awfully light smile, Cousin
Antony."

He laughed. "I suppose that comes from an awfully light heart, little
cousin!"

"Bella," her mother frowned, "don't be personal. You will learn not to
mind her, Antony; she is frightfully spoiled."

The little girl threw back her hair. "And you've got one light step,
Cousin Antony, and one heavy step. No one ever came up our stairs like
that before. How do you do it?"

The stranger's face clouded. He had been looking at her with keen
delight, and he was caught up short at her words. He put out his
deformed shoe.

"This is the heavy step."

Bella's cheeks had been flushed with excitement, but the dark red that
rose at Fairfax's words made her look like a little Indian.

"Oh, I didn't know!" she stammered. "I didn't know."

Her cousin comforted her cheerfully. "That's all right. I don't mind. I
fell from a cherry tree when I was a little chap and I've stumped about
ever since."

His aunt's gentle voice, indifferent and soft, like Gardiner's
murmured--

"Oh, don't listen to her, Antony, she's a spoiled, inconsiderate little
girl."

But Bella had drawn nearer the stranger. She leaned on the table close
to him and lifted her face in which her eyes shone like stars. She had
wounded him, and it didn't seem to her generous little heart that she
could quite let it go. And under her breath she whispered--

"But there's the _light_ step, isn't there, Cousin Antony? And the
smile--the awfully light smile?"

Fairfax laughed and leaned forward as though he would catch her, but
she had escaped from under his hand like an elusive fairy, and when he
next saw her she was back in her corner with her book on her knees and