lder, whom he has been led to admire. "Annie has been talking to me
about you all summer. I feel as if I knew you almost as well as she does.
I'm heartily glad to see you."

A man of finer grain than Edward Neal would have known the whole truth in
that first second, by the blank stern look which spread like a cloud over
George Ware's face; but the open-hearted fellow only thought that he had
perhaps seemed too familiar and went on,--

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Ware. It must appear strange to you that I took
the liberty of being so glad; but you don't know how kindly I have been
allowed to feel that your friends here would permit me to call all their
friends mine," and he glanced lovingly and confidently at my aunt and
uncle, who answered by such smiles as they rarely gave. Oh, no wonder they
loved this genial, frank sunny boy, who had brought such light into their
life.

In a moment George was his courteous self again, and began to express his
pleasure at meeting Mr. Neal, but Annie interrupted him.

"Oh, now don't be tiresome; of course you are to be just as good friends
with Edward as you are with me: sit down, Edward. He is telling us the
most delicious stories. He is the dearest Cousin George in the world," she
added, stroking his hand which she still kept in hers.

It gave Edward no more surprise to see her do this than it would have done
to see her sit in her father's lap. Even I felt with a sudden pang that
George Ware seemed at that moment to belong to another generation than
Edward and Annie.

Edward seated himself on a low cricket at the foot of the lounge, and,
looking up in George's face, said most winningly,--

"Please go on, Mr. Ware." Then he turned one full, sweet look of greeting
and welcome upon Annie, who beamed back upon him with such a diffused
smile as only the rarest faces have. Annie's smile was one of her greatest
charms. It changed her whole face; the lips made but a small part of it;
no mortal ever saw it without smiling in answer.

It was beyond George Ware's power long to endure this. Probably his
instinct felt in both Edward's atmosphere and Annie's more than we did. He
rose very soon and said to me, "If you are going home to-night, Helen,
will you let me walk up with you? I have business in that part of the
town; but I must go now. Perhaps that will hurry you too much?" he added,
with a tone which was almost imploring.

I was only too glad to go. Our leave-taking was very short. A s