“Well, cousin Helen,” exclaimed Lewis, when the first greetings were over, “how you are grown! you are almost as tall as Edward, I do believe. I hope you are not too much of a woman to play with boys now; though you have been to boarding-school since we saw you. Is not Brighton a delightful place? Were you not very glad to come?”
“Poor Helen!” said Mr. Ashton, “you will not give her time to answer one question, before you put another.” Helen’s merry face showed that she was not very sorry about any thing just now.
“I am afraid,” she said, “papa and mamma would tell you, that I am too fond of romping still.”
“So much the better,” Lewis said: he was very glad Helen did not love playing with dolls, except it was the sport of giving them a sail in the brook, which ran at the end of his uncle’s garden.
Helen had no brothers and sisters of her own; but she had spent many happy hours with her cousins, when they were visiting at her papa’s house.
“We have no garden for you here,” said Edward; “but we have a great many things to show you; and I think you will not soon grow tired of the beach, and the Esplanade, and the chain-pier.”
“Nor of looking at the sea either,” added Lewis; “for I think, Helen, you have done scarcely any thing else since you have been here.”
“I have never seen it before, you know,” said Helen, again turning her eyes towards the blue expanse of waters, as though she thought she had assigned a very sufficient reason for the silence, which she was not usually remarkable for.
“Lewis, my dear,” said Mrs. Ashton, “set a chair for your cousin; we will take our tea now. I am sure the travellers will be glad of it: and if Helen is not too much fatigued for walking this evening, we will go with her to the beach, that she may have a nearer view of that which seems to interest her so much.”
“Thank you, thank you! I am not much tired, I assure you; I shall be quite rested when we have finished tea.”