“I wish I could remember. I’m sorry, but won’t you help me?”
“It was when you were a little girl—so was I, but I was older—and my mother took me to see your mother, and we played, you and I, that is, in the yard, while our mothers talked. You wore a red dress and I thought you were very grand.”
The blue eyes were looking into the dark ones. There was a moment of hesitation and scrutiny. Then Zelda put out her hand.
“You are my cousin. Olive—is it—Merriam?—please don’t tell me that isn’t right!”
“Yes; that is just right.”
Zan, meanwhile, was pawing the dirty street impatiently.
“I’m going to take you home, if you’re ready to go, Cousin Olive. I’m badly lost and don’t remember the way you told me to go. It’s so exciting meeting a long-lost cousin!”
Olive Merriam debated an instant, in which she surveyed her new-found cousin doubtfully. She had started home when the battle at the school-house door gave her pause. There was no excuse for refusing. Zelda had gathered up the reins, and waited.
“Do come! Zan isn’t dangerous—and neither am I.”
“Thank you. I’ll have to come now to show that I’m not afraid.”