A Country Cousin
Her cousin sniffed unmistakably; she was still smarting from the lack of ceremony in her reception. To be pushed upstairs to bed like a baby! To be told that she needed gymnastics!
The German nurse looked in at the door to announce supper, and presently they were in the cheeriest of rooms, bright from a birch fire, hung with gay pictures—a nursery, evidently; but a well-stocked book-case, a dumb-waiter set in the wall, and a white-spread round table with seats for four transformed it into a charming combination of study and supper-room. At the head of the table sat a sweet-faced, delicate-looking woman with slightly grayed hair. She rose as the girls entered, and walking a little slowly, leaning her weight upon a stout cane, came toward them.
"How do you do, Sarah? I am Aunt Grace, you know," she said in the same rich deep voice that Aunt Harriet had. "Are you going to take my Harriet's place? You must be very careful! Harriet is a very nice young person!"
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