effect of an explanation of the suppression of her earlier thought. "You
will never be anything but a child, dear brother."

"One would suppose that you, madam," answered Felix, laughing, "were a
thousand years old."

"I am--sometimes," said the Baroness.

"I will go, then, and announce to our cousins the arrival of a
personage so extraordinary. They will immediately come and pay you their
respects."

Eugenia paced the length of the room again, and then she stopped before
her brother, laying her hand upon his arm. "They are not to come and see
me," she said. "You are not to allow that. That is not the way I shall
meet them first." And in answer to his interrogative glance she went on.
"You will go and examine, and report. You will come back and tell me
who they are and what they are; their number, gender, their respective
ages--all about them. Be sure you observe everything; be ready to
describe to me the locality, the accessories--how shall I say it?--the
mise en scene. Then, at my own time, at my own hour, under circumstances
of my own choosing, I will go to them. I will present myself--I will
appear before them!" said the Baroness, this time phrasing her idea with
a certain frankness.

"And what message am I to take to them?" asked Felix, who had a lively
faith in the justness of his sister's arrangements.

She looked at him a moment--at his expression of agreeable veracity;
and, with that justness that he admired, she replied, "Say what you