"You may say Uncle Stuart and Aunt Marcia to them, though they are really your cousins. Well, what is it?" seeing a doubtful, troubled look in the eyes lifted to his.
"Please papa, don't be vexed with me," she murmured, dropping her eyes and blushing deeply, "but would it—be quite—quite true and right to call them so when they are not really?"
He drew her closer and softly kissing the glowing cheek, "I should prefer to have you call them aunt and uncle," he said, "and I cannot see anything wrong or untrue in doing so; but if it is a question of conscience with you, my darling, I shall not insist."
"Thank you, dear papa," she said, looking up gratefully and drawing a long sigh of relief; "but I want to do as you wish; please tell me why you do not think it wrong."
"They may adopt you as their niece, you them as your uncle and aunt," he answered, smiling down at the grave, earnest little face.
"What a nice idea, papa!" she exclaimed with a low, musical laugh, her face growing bright and glad; "that makes it all right, I think. I knew about adopted children and adopted parents, but I didn't think of any other adopted relations."
"But do you not see that that must follow as a matter of course?"
A middle-aged colored woman had drawn near carrying a light shawl. "De air gettin' little bit cool, I tink, massa," she remarked, in a respectful tone. "I'se 'fraid my chile cotch cold."
"Quite right, Aunt Chloe," he returned, taking the shawl from her and wrapping it carefully about the little girl.