The boy nestled down contentedly among his cushions and watched her with merry eyes.
"Go on and tell about them," he urged. "It's such fun to hear about a large family."
Theodora's quick eye saw that one of the cushions was slipping to one side. She replaced it with a deftness of touch natural to her, yet seemingly incongruous with her harum-scarum ways. Then she settled herself with her back against a tree, facing her new friend.
"Hope is past seventeen and an angel," she said; "one of the good, quiet kind with yellow hair and not any temper. She's had all the care of us, since my mother died. Then there's Hubert, my twin brother. He's my boy, and a splendid one. You'll like Hu. Phebe is ten, and a terror. Nobody ever knows what she'll do or say next. We call her Babe, but Allyn is the real baby. He's cunning and funny, except when Babe teases him, and then he rages like a little monster. That's all there are of us."
"And you live just over the fence?"
"Yes, we've lived there always, grown up with the place. People used to call it McAlister's Folly; but they're more respectful now."
"McAlister?"
"Yes. I'm Dr. McAlister's daughter. Didn't you know it?"
"How should I? Remember, you came down out of a tree."
They both laughed.