"Had a telegram," he explained; "must be there at noon. So glad of the unexpected pleasure of meeting you all."
And Cousin Eunice Chatterton went; for, at the last minute, she had suddenly discovered that she had visited at the gray stone mansion as long as she cared to, and notified the family accordingly. And Mr. King had so far made up for his part in the late unpleasantness as to ask her to go with the party, on her way to her nephew's in the city. So there she was with the others, bidding them good-by on the steamer.
"Phronsie," she said slowly, under cover of the babel of tongues, "you are a good child, and I've done well by you. This little bit of paper," putting it into her hands, "contains a message to Mr. King, which you are to give him after you have started."
"I will go and give it to him now," said Phronsie, her fingers closing over the bit.
"No, no," said Mrs. Chatterton sharply, "do as I say. Remember, on no account to let any one see it till after you have started. You are a good child, Phronsie. Now, remember to do as you are bidden. And now, will you kiss me, child?"
Phronsie lifted her eyes and fixed them on the long, white face, and suddenly raising herself on her tiptoes, she put up her lips.
"Look at Phron," cried Joel in the midst of the group, "actually kissing Mrs. Chatterton!" and everybody turned and stared.
Cousin Eunice dropped her veil with a quick hand, and moved off with a stately step, but not in time to lose young Bayley's drawl:
"'Pon me word—it's the most extraordinary thing. Phronsie, come here, and tell us what 'twas like." But Phronsie stood quite still as if she had not heard.
"Yes, I hope you'll have a nice time," Pickering Dodge was saying for the dozenth time, with eyes for no one but Polly, "now don't stay away for a year."