"Oh, Margaret!" cried Annette Beekman. "Why, this is lovely of you, Stephen! Can't you turn in and stop a while with us?"
"I'm showing Margaret New York," said Steve, with his pleasant laugh. "She has begun to think straight down to Rutgers Institute comprised every bit there was of it."
"Oh, Stephen!" deprecatingly.
Some one else came out; a fair, tall girl with great braids of flaxen hair and a silver comb in the top to make her look taller still. She smiled very sweetly.
"Oh, Mr. Underhill!" she exclaimed.
"This is my big sister and this is my little one," explained Stephen. "And this," to Margaret, "is Miss Dolly Beekman."
A warm color rose in Margaret's cheeks as a half-suspicion stole over her.
"You must get out and rest a while after this long ride," said Miss Dolly with winsome cordiality. "The rain last evening was delightful, but the day is warm. We are all living out-of-doors, as you see. And this, I suppose, is your little sister? Drive up and help the girls out, and then go round to the barn. You will find some one there."
Stephen wound slowly up the driveway, nodding to the group of ladies. Dolly walked along the grassy path. She wore a white dotted suisse gown with a "baby waist," and had a blue satin sash with ends that fell nearly to the bottom of the skirt. Her sleeves came to the elbow and were composed of three rather deep ruffles edged with lace. Round her pretty white neck she had an inch-wide black velvet, fastened with a tiny diamond that Stephen had brought her a week ago. She looked like a picture, Margaret thought, and later her portrait in costume was exhibited at the Academy of Design.
Stephen lifted his sisters down. Dolly took Margaret's arm and the little girl's hand and introduced them to almost as many sisters and cousins and aunts as there were in "Pinafore." The small person was not quite comfortable. She had a feeling that the back of her nice frock was dreadfully crushed. Margaret was a little confused. Stephen seemed so at home among them all. Annette had spoken so familiarly of him, yet she had not suspected. How blind she had been!