A few hours later the Fire Bird swung up to the portico of a leading Buffalo hotel, and, scarcely had the puffing machine come to a stop than a girl in lavender, with blue eyes and brown hair, had Dorothy in her arms.
“Oh, you dear, old sweetheart!” exclaimed Rose-Mary, as she embraced Dorothy with that effusion of delight peculiar to schoolgirls and babies, as Nat remarked in a whisper to Ned.
“And you were so good to think of me,” Dorothy tried to say, from the midst of the embrace.
“Think of you! As if I ever forgot you for one single moment!” Then Rose-Mary turned to the two boys in the auto and paused.
“These are my cousins,” began Dorothy. “This is Mr. Edward White and the other one,”—with a little laugh,—“is his brother Nathaniel.”
The boys bowed and made what were probably intended for complimentary acknowledgments of the introduction, but which were mere murmurs. Rose-Mary, however with the usual advantage of girls over boys in such matters, showed no embarrassment.
“There is one real nice thing about Dorothy,” spoke Nat when he had, in a measure recovered his composure. “She always makes Ned my brother. That counts.”
The girls laughed merrily and then a tall young man, the “very image of Rose-Mary only taller,” according to Dorothy, stepped down to the curb.
“Jack!” called Rose-Mary. “Come here instanter and get acquainted with Dorothy.”
Jack looked at the group. His eyes plainly said “only with Dorothy?”