"I'd like to see a vote on that first. Recognize mine, Cally?" cried Hen--"the brown you gave me last fall? First appearance since I steamed and turned it. It'll stand a dye next year, too. But we haven't seen you for a long time, my dear. Did you know Aunt Rose Hopwood's staying with us now?"
"Oh, is she? I hadn't heard, Hen. How is she?"
"She's bad off," said Chas, cheerfully. "Deaf, lame, and cruel poverty's hit her right at her old home address. I guess she'll come live with us later on. Come walk out to King's Bridge for an appetite."
Carlisle, with an impatient foot on the Byrds' bottom step, glanced from Chas to Hen, smiling a little. Her cousins were well-meaning young people, and she liked them in a way, but she often found their breezy assurance somewhat amusing.
"Thank you, Chas," said she, "but I've an engagement with mamma. I'm to pick her up here now. I hope Aunt Molly's well?"
"Fine," said Hen. "Come and see us, Cally. Why don't you come to supper to-morrow night?"
The lovely cousin obviously hesitated.
"Aw, Cally doesn't want to come yell in Aunt Rose Hopwood's trumpet, Hen--"
"Aunt Rose Hopwood's going home to-morrow."
"First I've heard of it. Frankly I doubt your word."