“Can I believe my eyes!” said Mrs. Clifford’s voice from the head of the stairs; and down she rushed, with open arms, to greet her guests.

Then there was so much kissing, and so much talking, that nobody exactly knew what anybody else said; and Katie added to the confusion by fluttering in and out, and every now and then breaking into a musical laugh, which the mocking-bird, not to be outdone, caught up and echoed.  It was a merry, merry meeting.

“You dee papa bringed you—­didn’t him, Dotty?” said Katie, flying at her cousin with the feather duster, as soon as Grace had taken away the umbrella, and pointing her remarks with the end of the handle.

“You’s Uncle Eddard’s baby—­that’s what is it.”

“O, you darling Flyaway!” said Dotty, “if you wouldn’t stick that handle right into my eyes!”

“I’s going to give you sumpin!” returned Katie, putting her hand in her pocket, and producing a very soft orange, which had been used for a football.  “It’s a ollinge. You can eat um, ’cause I gived um to you.”

“Thank you, O, thank you.  Flyaway:  how glad I am to see you!  You look just the same, and no different.”

“O, no, I’m is growin’ homely,” replied the baby, cheerfully, “velly homely; Hollis said so.”

By the time Dotty’s crushed hat was off, and she had made herself ready for tea, trying to hide three of the six grease-spots with her hands, Horace appeared with a little birch switch across his shoulder, strung with fish.  The fish were few and small; but Horace was just as tired, he said, as if he had caught a whale.  He did not say he was glad to see his young cousin; but joy shone all over his face.

“We’ll have times—­won’t we, little Topknot?” said he, taking Katie up between his fingers, as if she had been a pinch of snuff.

“Is you found of ollinges, Dotty?” asked Flyaway, with an anxious glance at the yellow fruit in Dotty’s hand, still untasted.

After tea the orange lay on the lounge.

“I’s goin’ to give you a ollinge,” said Katie, presenting it again, as if it were a new one.  But after she had given it away three times, she thought her duty was done.

“If you please um,” said she, coaxingly, “I dess I’ll eat a slice o’ that ollinge.”

So she had the whole.

“Dotty, have you seen Phebe?” asked Horace.

“No; where does she live?”

“O, out in the kitchen.  Prudy saw her when she was here, ever so long ago.  She hasn’t faded any since.”

“O, now I remember, she’s a niggro, as black as a sip.”

“Yes; come out and see her.  She’s famous for making candy.  She learned that of Barby.”

“Who is Barby?”

“The Dutch girl we had before Katinka came.”

Dotty went into the kitchen with Horace to watch the candy-making.  This was a favorite method with him of entertaining visitors.