"I am nineteen."
"Well, your cousin Averil is seven-and-twenty; so she is older, you see, though she is hardly tall enough to reach to your shoulder."
"But I am not big myself—not what you call tall; my cousin must be a very little person; she is quite old, too—seven-and-twenty." And Annette looked perplexed.
"You are not as tall as my daughter Louie, but you are a fair height. Averil has never grown properly, but she is the nicest little person in the world when you come to know her. You are lucky, Miss Ramsay; you are, indeed, to have made such a friend; for Averil is true as steel, and I ought to be a good judge, for I have known her from a baby."
"She must be very good. It is kind, it is more than kind, to offer me a home. I do not seem to believe it yet. Are you sure—are you quite sure, monsieur, that this is what my cousin intends?"
"Oh, I am not without proofs," returned Mr. Harland, touched by the girl's gentle wistfulness and anxiety. "I have brought you a note from Averil herself; it is written in a great hurry, but I dare say you will find the invitation all right."
Annette's eyes brightened. She stretched out her hand eagerly for the letter.
"My dear Cousin Annette," it began, "your letter to my father has made me feel very sad. When my good friend, Mr. Harland, gives you this, you will have heard of my dear father's death. Had he been living, I know well how his kind heart would have longed to help you, you poor, lonely child! But, Annette, you must allow me to act in his place. Remember, I am your cousin, too. While I live you shall not want a home. Mr. Harland will explain everything, and make things easy for you. Do not hesitate to trust him. He will guard you as he would his own daughter. I go to him in all my troubles, and he is so wise and helpful. His time is valuable, so if you will please us both you will make as much haste as you can in packing up your possessions, and then come to your English home. I will do all I can to make you happy, and to console you for past troubles. I do so love taking care of people. I have no time to add more.
"Your affectionate cousin,
"Averil Willmot."
"How kind! how good!" murmured Annette, as she put down the note; "it seems to me as though I love her already, this Averil."
"You will love her more by and by," returned Mr. Harland, in his cheery manner. "I expect you two will get on first rate. Now, Miss Ramsay, I am a practical sort of a person. How long do you think it would take you to pack up your things, eh?"