laughter; and, as I
reddened, my cousin Dorothy, too, began to laugh, showing an edge of
small, white teeth under the red lip's line.

"Are you vexed because we laugh?" she asked.

My tongue stung with a retort, but I stood silent. These Varicks might
forget their manners, but I might not forget mine.

She honored me with a smile, sweeping me from head to foot with her
bright eyes. My buckskins were dirty from travel, and the thrums in
rags; and I knew that she noted all these matters.

"Cousin," she lisped, "I fear you are something of a macaroni."

Instantly a fresh volley of laughter rattled from the landing--such
clear, hearty laughter that it infected me, spite my chagrin.

"He's a good fellow, our cousin Ormond!" came a fresh young voice from
above.

"He shall be one of us!" cried another; and I thought to catch a glimpse
of a flowered petticoat whisked from the gallery's edge.

I looked at my cousin Dorothy Varick; she stood at gaze, laughter in her
eyes, but the mouth demure.

"Cousin Dorothy," said I, "I believe I am a good fellow, even though
ragged and respectable. If these qualities be not bars to your society,
give me your hand in fellowship, for upon my soul I am nigh sick for a
welcome from somebody in this unfriendly land."

Still at gaze, she slowly raised her arm and held out to me a fresh,
sun-tanned hand; and I had meant to press it, but a sudden shyness
scotched me, and, as the soft fingers rested in my palm, I raised them
and touched them with my lips in silent respect.

"You have pretty manners," she said, looking at her hand, but not
withdrawing it from where it rested. Then, of an impulse, her fingers
closed on mine firmly, and she looked me straight in the eye.

"You are a good comrade; welcome to Varicks', cousin Ormond!"

Our hands fell apart, and, glancing up, I perceived a group of youthful
barbarians on the stairs, intently watching us. As my eyes fell on them
they scattered, then closed in together defiantly. A red-haired lad of
seventeen came down the steps, offering his hand awkwardly.

"I'm Ruyven Varick," he said. "These girls are fools to bait men of our
age--" He broke off to seize Dorothy by the arm. "Give me that watch,
you vixen!"

His sister scornfully freed her arm, and Ruyven stood sullenly clutching
a handful of torn lace.

"Why don't you present us to our cousin Ormond?" spoke up a maid of
sixteen.

"Who wants to make your acquaintance?" retorted Ruyven,