"Good news! Oh, dear Miss Kerr, do tell me what it is," cried the little girl eagerly.
"Well, I have been having a long talk with your mama, Bunny, and—"
"Oh, yes, I know that. I saw you talk, talk, talk, only I couldn't hear what you were saying, because the window was shut."
"No, I suppose not, dear, but listen. Your mama says you have an uncle in India who has a little son of seven years old—"
"Oh, I know that, Miss Kerr! Why, that's no news! Of course I know about Uncle Jim and Cousin Mervyn. I never saw them though, but still I know they are in India, an awfully hot place it is, Sophie says."
"Yes, so it is. But would you like to see this Cousin Mervyn, do you think?"
"Oh, I'd just love to see him—but is he black? Sophie says the people in those countries are black. Oh, I shouldn't like a black cousin, Miss Kerr, indeed I should not," cried Bunny in a piteous voice.
"You little goose, he's not black at all," cried Miss Kerr, laughing at the little girl's look of consternation; "I have never seen him, but his papa is supposed to be like your mama, so I daresay he will have fair hair, blue eyes, and pink cheeks something very like your own."
"Oh, I'm glad he is like that, for indeed I could not bear a black cousin. Once I had a black doll given to me for a present, and I screamed and screamed till nurse put it away out of the nursery."
"It is certainly very lucky that your cousin is not black, for it would never do to scream at him, would it?" said Miss Kerr, "for he has arrived in London and is coming here with your papa to-morrow evening."