"My mother couldn't come, for father needed her," she explained. "This is my maid, Ellen."
"Oh," said Faith, much impressed by such elegance. "We thought aunt Helen was coming. Ernest is holding the horse over here," and she led the way to a two-seated wagon where a twelve-year-old boy in striped shirt and old felt hat was waiting.
Faith made the introductions and then helped Gladys and Ellen into the back seat of the wagon, all unconscious of her cousin's wonder at the absence of silver mountings and broadcloth cushions. Then Faith climbed over the wheel into the seat beside her brother, and the horse started. She turned about so as to talk more easily with her guest.
"What a beautiful doll!" she said admiringly.
"Yes," returned Gladys, "this is my birthday, you know."
"Oh, then, is it new? I thought it was! Hasn't she the prettiest clothes? Have you named her yet?"
"Her name is Vera. Mother says it means true, or truth, or something like that."
Ernest turned half around to glance at the object of the girls' admiration; but he thought Gladys herself a much more attractive creature than the doll.
"I suppose your cousin Gladys can't ask you to admire her doll much, Master Ernest," said Ellen. She liked these rosy children at once, and the fresh, sunlit air that had painted their cheeks.
"Oh, it's pretty enough," returned Ernest, turning back and clucking to the horse.