"Yes. She has two younger; a boy and a girl. The babe is my namesake."
"My brother is named Charles Arthur; after uncle Charley and uncle Arthur," ventured Elle.
"And you love him very dearly,—do you not?" said Ida.
"Yes ma'am; I love papa and mamma, and aunt Carry, and uncle Charley, and uncle Arthur, and grandpa, and sister and brother," said the child, running over the names with a volubility that showed how used she was to the repetition.
"Will you love me too?" asked Ida. The anxiety with which she awaited the reply will not be sneered at by those who have been, like her, starvelings in affection.
"Yes, you too, but I don't know what to call you."
"My name is Ida."
"Miss Ida, or cousin Ida?"
"Cousin!" exclaimed Ida, catching at the word. "Call me cousin!"
"Elle claims as relatives, all whom she loves," observed Carry; "and we encourage her in the practice. Miss is formal; and the absence of any such prefix gives a disrespectful air to a child's address."