"Is it possible?" cried Mrs. Grahame, greatly surprised. "If that is the case, he is much more than a Scotch cousin. Why, Robert Grahame was my dear husband's first cousin. Their fathers were brothers. Hugh often spoke of his cousin Robert, and regretted that they never met, as they were great friends in their boyhood. And this is his son! is it possible? My dear boy, I must shake hands with you again. You are a boy, aren't you, though you are so big?"
"To be sure he is a boy!" said Colonel Ferrers, who was highly delighted with his discovery of a relationship. "Just eighteen—a mere snip of a boy! Going to college in the autumn."
"Hildegarde," continued Mrs. Grahame, "shake hands with your cousin John, and tell him how glad you are to find him."
Hildegarde held out her hand, and John Ferrers tried to find it, but found a hanging-basket instead, and knocked it over, sending a shower of damp earth over the other members of the party.
"I must take him home," exclaimed Colonel Ferrers, in mock despair, "or he will destroy the whole house. Miss Hildegarde," he added, in a very kind voice, "you probably thought me an ogre this morning. I am generally regarded as such. Fact is, you frightened me more than I frightened you. We are not used to seeing young ladies here who know how to climb trees. Harry Monmouth! Wish I could climb 'em myself as I used. Best fun in the world! Come, Jack, I must get you home before you do any more mischief. Good-night, Mrs. Grahame! I trust we shall meet often!"
"I trust so, indeed!" said Mrs. Grahame heartily. "We shall count upon your being neighbourly, in the good old country sense; and as for John, he must do a cousin's duty by us, and shall in return receive the freedom of the house."
"Hum mum mum!" said John; at least, that is what it sounded like; on which his uncle seized him by the arm impatiently, and walked him off.
"Well, Mammina!" said Hildegarde, when the visitors were well out of hearing.
"Well, dear!" replied her mother placidly. "What a pleasant visit! The poor lad is very shy, isn't he? Could you make anything out of him?"
"Why, Mammina, he is a perfect goose!" exclaimed Hildegarde, warmly. "I don't think it was a pleasant visit at all. As to making anything out of that—"