“Don’t be afraid; not in the least afraid,” Zelda said to her cousin as she hastened across the hall to her aunt and uncle.
“Please don’t,” urged Olive. “It isn’t kind to me.”
“No danger at all; they’re all perfectly amiable when you know how to manage them.”
“Aunt Julia, this is a real compliment! Thanks very much. This is Olive Merriam. And, Uncle Rodney, here’s the star, to whom I expect you to say something particularly nice. Mr. Merriam, Miss Merriam,”—and Zelda smiled as the old gentleman bowed low over the hand of his brother’s daughter.
“Olive Merriam,” said Zelda, “is my cousin and my very dearest friend.”
Olive was not afraid. She smiled at Rodney Merriam; and there was something very winning in Olive Merriam’s smile. Zelda looked demurely at her aunt, who seemed alarmed lest something unpleasant might happen; but Rodney Merriam laughed, half at finding himself caught, and half at the sight of Olive Merriam’s blue eyes, her glowing cheeks with their furtive dimples and the fair hair that Zelda was now compelling her to wear in the prevailing mode.
“I am delighted; I am proud of you,” he declared quite honestly.
“I think—I may say that I reciprocate,” replied Olive. “I haven’t seen you for a long time—Uncle Rodney—except at a distance.”
“Altogether my fault and my loss! I trust that the distance may be considerably lessened hereafter.”
A number of people were watching this by-play with keen interest. Something had surely happened among the Merriams. It had been many years since so many members of the family had been seen together at any social gathering.