"Hush! Listen to cousin Leslie's story. We have had the cold wind, and the shivering young lady with the big rug round her, and the trot, trot, trot of the horse's hoofs, and the wood fairies pattering among the brown dead leaves, and then the wind stopping, and the big red sun blazing out, and sinking, sinking in a quiet sad way to sleep; then the fir-trees moan, and the frogs croak, and trot, trot, trot goes the horse, and the iron gates clang, and the chestnuts shake themselves awake to see who comes, and knock, knock at the door, then we were just having the buzz, buzz of talk in the drawing-room over tea cups when you came in. Now, Cousin Leslie, finish it; tell me what she is like, and I'll kiss her!"
But "Cousin Leslie" got up from the piano.
"You see what she is like, Sunnie. I must be off."
"I see what she looks like, but I want you to tell me what she really is!"
"Take me on trust," said Jean, with hot cheeks, yet with a twinkle of humour in her eye. "I am not a wolf in sheep's clothing."
The little girl drew down her hands and held them out.
"Kiss me, and love me," she said.
And Jean found no trouble in doing both.
"I thought you had gone home, Leslie," said Mrs. Gordon, turning to her cousin.
"That was my intention, but a message came from Her Highness, that I was to come to her. What could I do, but obey?"