"Who?"
"It's Cyril's sister—Evelyn," said Jean, wondering what had come over "Cousin Jem."
Jem stood motionless, cap off, till Evelyn quitted the last stone. Then he went forward, and offered his help for the ascent of the bank.
"Thanks!" Evelyn said, smiling, and just touching the brown hand. She needed no help, but she was too gracious a being to refuse. "Thanks!" she repeated, reaching the level path, with a kind look at Jem which finished him off completely, though it was no more than she would have given to gardener or butler for a service rendered. "Is anything wrong with Cyril?"
"He turned giddy, crossing the river," said Jem.
"But I'm going to try again, and I mean to do it," exclaimed Cyril. "He says he was just as bad, Evie, and he got over it. And I mean to be brave. Jean says I must."
"Jean says!" repeated Evelyn. It recalled Miss Devereux's perpetual citing of "dear aunt."
"He's a boy," explained Jean.
"And I'll be a man some day," cried the little baronet. "You'll see, Evie. I'll take care of Jean when I'm a man."
"Jean is more likely to take care of you at present."