“Madam, I don’t understand you,” Reinette replied, drawing nearer to Mr. Beresford, and holding faster to his hand, as if for protection and safety.
Neither did grandma understand, but Mr. Beresford did, and knew that the existence of the Fergusons was wholly unknown to Reinette, who, as if to breathe more freely, untied the blue veil, and taking it from her neck and hat, stood like a hunted creature at bay; while Mrs. Ferguson, nothing abashed, and simply thinking the girl might be a little deaf, raised her voice and said:
“I am your grandmarm—your mother’s mother; and this,” turning to her daughter-in-law, “is your A’nt Lyddy Ann—your Uncle Tom’s wife; and this one,” nodding to Anna, who understood the state of things better than her grandmother, and was hot with resentment and anger, “this is your Cousin Anny.”
Releasing her hand from Mr. Beresford’s, Reinette, with dexterous rapidity, wrenched off her gloves, as if they, like the veil, were burdensome; and Anna, who hated her own long, slim fingers, with the needle-pricks upon them, saw, with a pang of envy, how soft and small, and white were her cousin’s hands, with the dimples at the joints, and the costly jewels shining on them.
Mrs. Lydia, who felt quite overawed in the presence of this foreign girl, did not speak, but courtesied straight up and down; while Anna put on a show of cordiality, and, offering her hand, made a most profound bow, as she said:
“I am glad, Cousin Reinette, to make your acquaintance, and you are very welcome to America.”
“Thanks,” murmured Reinette in her soft, foreign accent, just as Grandma Ferguson spoke again:
“And this is another cousin, Philip Rossiter—your A’nt Mary’s boy.”
Phil had come at last, and stood looking over his grandmother’s shoulder at the new arrival. His face was very red with his recent exercise, and a little soiled by the hands which had come in contact with fences and walls, and bogs, and then wiped the perspiration from it, so that he was not quite as jaunty and handsome as usual. At a glance he had seen how matters stood. Miss Reinette did not take kindly to her new relatives, if indeed she believed they were her relatives at all. Miss Reinette was neither an Amazon nor a blonde; she was petite and a brunette. He had lost his bet; the new hat he wore so airily was not his, but Mr. Beresford’s, and quick as thought he snatched it from his head and exchanged with his friend, just as he was presented to Reinette as another cousin.
Instantly the large, bright black eyes darted toward him a perplexed, wondering look, but aside from that there was no response to the lifting of Phil’s old hat. Another cousin was the straw too many, and Reinette fairly gasped as she involuntarily said to herself in French, “I believe I shall die;” then, taking the sailor hat from her head, she fanned herself furiously, while the look of a hunted, worried creature deepened on her dark, flushed face and shone in her flashing eyes.