"O Kat, you surely have something else besides cakes," cried Bea in dismay. "It'll never do, he's used to everything nice."
"Suppose he is, we're not, and he mustn't expect it here."
"Dear me," explained Bea, starting for the kitchen; but Kittie interrupted her, with the consoling remark:
"It's all right, I made a nice pudding with sugar sauce, and there is cold meat and hot biscuit, that's enough, mama said so."
"I bet you he'll sit and mope in his room, and cry for his mama, dear little boy, I'll give him a sugar horn," laughed Kat, then caught her breath suddenly, and flushed scarlet, for there in the door stood the new cousin, also rather flushed, but with his eyes twinkling, and his arms full of things.
"Thank you, Cousin Kathleen," he said gravely; "I really hadn't thought of crying, but your promise is tempting, I'll begin in a few moments. In the meantime, here are some messages that mother sent with her love. She selected for each, as she remembered you, and I hope that none of you have so changed in tastes, that these little things will be out of keeping."
His genial tone, and winning smile were very taking, and made every one feel acquainted at once, so Bea pushed an easy chair forward, saying with a smile:
"We'll try hard to be grateful, Cousin Ralph. Come, take this easy chair and deliver your messages, you see we're anxious."
He did so, holding up a splendid copy of Dante.
"For Olive, whom mother remembers as a studious book-loving little girl, and hoped she would enjoy this grand work."