"You are Felix and Beverley," she went on, shaking our hands with
an air of frank comradeship, which was very different from the
shy, feminine advances of Felicity and Cecily. From that moment
we were as good friends as if we had known each other for a
hundred years. "I am glad to see you. I was so disappointed I
couldn't go over last night. I got up early this morning,
though, for I felt sure you would be up early, too, and that
you'd like to have me tell you about things. I can tell things
so much better than Felicity or Cecily. Do you think Felicity is
VERY pretty?"

"She's the prettiest girl I ever saw," I said enthusiastically,
remembering that Felicity had called me handsome.

"The boys all think so," said the Story Girl, not, I fancied,
quite well pleased. "And I suppose she is. She is a splendid
cook, too, though she is only twelve. I can't cook. I am trying
to learn, but I don't make much progress. Aunt Olivia says I
haven't enough natural gumption ever to be a cook; but I'd love
to be able to make as good cakes and pies as Felicity can make.
But then, Felicity is stupid. It's not ill-natured of me to say
that. It's just the truth, and you'd soon find it out for
yourselves. I like Felicity very well, but she IS stupid.
Cecily is ever so much cleverer. Cecily's a dear. So is Uncle
Alec; and Aunt Janet is pretty nice, too."

"What is Aunt Olivia like?" asked Felix.

"Aunt Olivia is very pretty. She is just like a pansy--all