"That is quite forgotten, and my mother says it all arose from a mistake. We are decided friends now."
"I'm sure I am very glad to hear it; for, since it is peace, let us have peace; though old enemies are not apt to make very decided friends."
"But we never were—that is, my grandfather never was an enemy of anybody; and the whole matter was amicably settled just before he went to Europe, on his unfortunate visit to Sir Harry Bulstrode. No—no—my mother will tell you, Mordaunt, that the Littlepages and the Bayards now regard each other as very decided friends."
Kate spoke with so much earnestness that I was disposed to take a look at her. The face of the girl was flushed, and I fancy she had a secret consciousness of the fact; for she turned it from me as if gazing at some object in the opposite direction, thereby preventing me from seeing much of it.
"I am very glad to learn all this," I answered, a little dryly. "As I am a Littlepage, it would have been awkward not to have known it, had I accidentally met with one of these Bayards. Does the peace include all of the name, or only those of the Hickories?"
Kate laughed; then she was pleased to tell me that I was to consider myself the friend of all of the name.
"And most especially of those of the name who dwell at the Hickories?"
"How many may there be of this especially peaceful breed? six, a dozen, or twenty?"
"Only four; so your task will make no very heavy demand on your affections. Your heart has room, I trust, for four more friends?"
"For a thousand, if I can find them, my dear. I can accept as many friends as you please, but have places for none else. All the other niches are occupied."