“Honor, my little one,” the Sister’s voice trembled; “that I present thee to Madame—”
“Mrs. Damian!” The lady spoke in an odd, abrupt tone. “How do you do, child? Your grandfather Bright was my first cousin; you are therefore my second cousin once removed. Sit down! If you open your eyes too wide, they might drop out. I asked you how you did!”
Honor blinked and sat down hastily, trembling and amazed.
“I am very well, I thank you, madame!” she answered. “I trust your distinguished health is also good.”
“My distinguished health is as good as can be expected, I thank you!” with an amused twinkle. “Your name is Honor? So is mine! There is always an Honor in the family. You never heard your father speak of me, I suppose? No! how should you? I haven’t seen him for twenty years. He was a nice boy then. Well! you wonder what sky I have dropped from, eh? I heard of your parents’ death a year or more ago; I was in Russia at the time. I am a traveler, child; I have been traveling for many years. I was in Russia, and since then I have been in the East. I have always meant to look you up; I wrote your guardian, Mr. Stanford, that I would. You have never seen Mr. Stanford?”
Honor shook her head. “He writes to Madame,” she said. “Twice a year he writes, to make inquiry for me, and to send money; he comes never.”
“Busy man! You’ll see him—” Mrs. Damian spoke in short, abrupt sentences, each one punctuated with a nod. The last sentence remained unfinished, and she nodded twice.
“Folly!” she spoke over her shoulder, and the rosy person approached. “This is the little cousin! Honor, this is Miss Folly, who keeps me alive. A ridiculous fuss she makes about it, too. What now, Folly? Why do you look at me?”
“It’s time to come home, Mrs. Damian!” Miss Folly spoke in a cheerful, cordial voice which struck Honor’s ear like music. “Shall I call the carriage?”
“Do so! Honor, your teacher gives you permission to take supper with me at the hotel this evening. Will you come?”