“Yes; and a very nice gentleman he must be. He is a cousin of the Martyns of The Meadows. You know how you liked them when we spent a day there during these holidays—didn’t you, Aneta?”
“Yes,” said Aneta, “most charming people. I felt quite sorry that the Martyn girls were too old for school. I wonder they didn’t mention the fact of their cousin being about to marry Mrs. Howland; for you know we were talking of Maggie to them, or at least you were, Merry.”
“Of course I was,” said Merry in a determined voice. “I am very, very fond of Maggie Howland.”
“Perhaps we had better go to bed now,” said Aneta. “I may as well tell you, girls, that we have to get up at half-past six. Lucy comes to us and wakes us at that hour, and we are expected to be downstairs at seven. Lucy will tell you, too, girls, that it is expected of us all that we shall keep our rooms in perfect order. Now, shall we say good-night?”
The Cardews kissed their cousin and went to their own pleasant room.
As soon as they were there Merry said, “Cicely, I am glad about poor Maggie.”
“And so am I,” said Cicely.
“When we write home we must be sure to mention to mother about Mr. Martyn. I don’t think dear Maggie knew anything about The Meadows; so perhaps, after all, he is a somewhat distant cousin; but it is such a comfort to know that he is rich and a gentleman.”
“Yes,” said Cicely. Then she added, “I don’t think Aneta wants you to make too great a friend of Maggie Howland.”
“Oh, nonsense!” said Merry, coloring slightly. “I am never going to give Maggie up, for I love her dearly.”