Katy’s gifts were numerous enough to satisfy even Clover, and comprised all manner of things, from a silver tray which came, with a rather stiff note, from Mrs. Page and Lilly, to Mary’s new flour-scoop, Debby’s sifter, and a bottle of home-made hair tonic from an old woman in the “County Home.”  Each of the brothers and sisters had made her something, Katy having expressed a preference for presents of home manufacture.  Mrs. Ashe gave her a beautiful sapphire ring, and Cecy Hall—­as they still called her inadvertently half the time—­an elaborate sofa-pillow embroidered by herself.  Katy liked all her gifts, both large and small, both for what they were and for what they meant, and took a good healthy, hearty satisfaction in the fact that so many people cared for her, and had worked to give her a pleasure.

Cousin Helen was the first guest to arrive, five days before the wedding.  When Dr. Carr, who had gone to Buffalo to meet and escort her down, lifted her from the carriage and carried her indoors, all of them could easily have fancied that it was the first visit happening over again, for she looked exactly as she did then, and scarcely a day older.  She happened to have on a soft gray travelling dress too, much like that which she wore on the previous occasion, which made the illusion more complete.

But there was no illusion to Cousin Helen herself.  Everything to her seemed changed and quite different.  The ten years which had passed so lightly over her head had made a vast alteration in the cousins whom she remembered as children.  The older ones were grown up, the younger ones in a fair way to be so; even Phil, who had been in white frocks with curls falling over his shoulders at the time of her former visit to Burnet, was now fifteen and as tall as his father.  He was very slight in build, and looked delicate, she thought; but Katy assured her that he was perfectly well, and thin only because he had outgrown his strength.

It was one of the delightful results of Katy’s “forehandedness” that she could command time during those next two days to thoroughly enjoy Cousin Helen.  She sat beside her sofa for hours at a time, holding her hand and talking with a freedom of confidence such as she could have shown to no one else, except perhaps to Clover.  She had the feeling that in so doing she was rendering account to a sort of visible conscience of all the events, the mistakes, the successes, the glad and the sorry of the long interval that had passed since they met.  It was a pleasure and relief to her; and to Cousin Helen the recital was of equal interest, for though she knew the main facts by letter, there was a satisfaction in collecting the little details which seldom get fully put into letters.

One subject only Katy touched rather guardedly; and that was Ned.  She was so desirous that her cousin should approve of him, and so anxious not to raise her expectations and have her disappointed, that she would not half say how very nice she herself thought him to be.  But Cousin Helen could “read between the lines,” and out of Katy’s very reserve she constructed an idea of Ned which satisfied her pretty well.