Olive could not resist kissing the childish, innocent face that looked more like a little angel's than a child of nearly twelve. Surely, no matter how Jean was surrounded, she would always retain that childish sweetness and purity, that had always made her seem more of heaven than earth. Before she left Congreve Hall, Olive many times wondered that the child was not spoiled, for her slightest wish was law, from the owner down to the last servant therein.
When the bell rang for tea, it broke in upon an earnest cosy chat between the sisters, and made them reluctant to leave their seat in the twilight; but Mr. Congreve was punctual to the letter, and required the same of others, so Jean led the way in a moment, and together they descended the stairs and entered the room.
"Here you are, with your face clean, and a posy in your hair," cried Mr. Congreve, from his stand on the rug. "Fine looking girl, you are, my dear, and a Congreve every inch of you. Come here, and shake a paw with your Uncle Ridley."
Olive did so, and conscious that another gentleman was standing outside the circle of light, and doubtless regarding her as she crossed the room to "shake a paw," she advanced, and tried not to think whether she was doing so gracefully or not.
"That's the way," exclaimed Mr. Congreve, drawing her into the brightest light. "Roger, here is your Cousin Olive, and Olive, this is Roger Ridley Congreve at your service, and we will suppose that you are cousins, for the want of a better name. Now shake hands and be friends, children."
The gentleman came forward, and conscious that her face was growing scarlet, Olive bowed slightly, and murmured something wherein no words were audible, but his name, and grew furiously angry with herself, because she had become confused at the sight of a gentleman, where she had expected to see only a youth.
"Hoity-toity!" cried Mr. Congreve. "That will never do; call the boy Roger, Olive, and then we will go to supper."
"The boy" smiled in a friendly fashion, and supposing that her confusion arose from the old gentleman's abrupt manner, he held out his hand.
"Let us shake and be friendly, Cousin Olive, and it is a great wonder that he doesn't command a kiss of greeting, on the strength of our being cousins, more or less distantly removed."
As he spoke, Olive looked up with a startled air, and unconscious that he was holding her hand, she looked straight at him for several moments. Where had she ever seen that face and heard that voice?