"About poor Kitty, mamma?"
"Yes; when I was first married to your father, he brought me here to see his parents. Your uncle George and aunt Lily lived at home then; but now they have homes and families of their own, as your father has. About an hour after we came, we walked to the top of the hill to see the beautiful sunset, and on our way back, a bright, pretty child met us, and timidly held out to me a bouquet of wild flowers. The act was gracefully done, and I eagerly asked,—
"Are these pretty flowers for me?"
"The color crimsoned her cheeks as she answered softly,— 'Yes, ma'am.'"
"'A present to the bride, are they, Kitty?' asked your father, gaily. 'Now let me introduce you, Miss Catherine Maynard, this is my new wife. I shall ask you presently how you like her looks. Mrs. Seyton, this is Miss Maynard, one of my best friends.'"
"Kitty by this time had lost all her shyness, and laughed merrily."
"'He always is so funny,' she said to me, apologizing for her mirth."
"From this time, Kitty and I understood each other well. She was the third and youngest daughter of Mrs. Maynard, but so different from the others, it seemed scarcely possible that she belonged to them. They felt the difference, too, and regarded her with pride as well as affection.
"When we left F— for our own home, Mrs. Maynard promised to let Kitty come and make us a visit during the winter, but she never came."
"Why not, mamma?"