“Come in, Cousin Fred,” she said; “don’t be timid.”
“How did you know it was Cousin Fred?” he asked, taking the hand she offered.
“I saw you when you left the house. You reminded me forcibly of the ostrich of school-book renown.”
“Will you make a boutonniere for me to wear this evening?” he asked, laughing, in spite of his wish to frown.
“Certainly! I have just finished one for Cousin Paul. See the little beauty,” and she took it up and inhaled its fragrance.
“Why do you bother to make one for Paul?” he asked, his smile becoming less pronounced. “You know he is engaged.”
“Because, like yourself, he is, by courtesy, my cousin.”
“But Miss Lura De Cormis is the one to make bouquets for him, leaving you at liberty to make them for me, as I am not fortunate enough to claim a lady-love.”
“Were Paul in Philadelphia or Miss Lura here, I am sure there would be no need for me to make a boutonniere for him; but she has gone to purchase her trousseau. Had you forgotten that, Cousin Fred?”
“I should say not, when I am to be best man, and you Miss Lura’s bridesmaid.”