Patsy met her at the train in New York and embraced her rapturously.  Patsy was really fond of Beth; but it was her nature to be fond of everyone, and her cousin, escaping from her smacking and enthusiastic kisses, told herself that Patsy would have embraced a cat with the same spontaneous ecstacy.  That was not strictly true, but there was nothing half hearted or halfway about Miss Doyle.  If she loved you, there would never be an occasion for you to doubt the fact.  It was Patsy’s way.

Uncle John also was cordial in his greetings.  He was very proud of his pretty niece, and discerning enough to realize there was a broad strata of womanliness somewhere in Elizabeth’s undemonstrative character.  He had promised himself to “dig it out” some day, and perhaps the European trip would give him his opportunity.

Patsy and Elizabeth shopped for the next few days most strenuously and delightfully.  Sometimes their dainty cousin Louise joined them, and the three girls canvassed gravely their requirements for a trip that was as new to them as a flight to the moon.  Naturally, they bought much that was unnecessary and forgot many things that would have been useful.  You have to go twice to Europe to know what to take along.

Louise needed less than the others, for her wardrobe was more extensive and she already possessed all that a young girl could possibly make use of.  This niece, the eldest of Uncle John’s trio, was vastly more experienced in the ways of the world than the others, although as a traveller she had no advantage of them.  Urged thereto by her worldly mother, she led a sort of trivial, butterfly existence, and her character was decidedly superficial to any close observer.  Indeed, her very suavity and sweetness of manner was assumed, because it was so much more comfortable and effective to be agreeable than otherwise.  She was now past seventeen years of age, tall and well formed, with a delicate and attractive face which, without being beautiful, was considered pleasant and winning.  Her eyes were good, though a bit too shrewd, and her light brown hair was fluffy as spun silk.  Graceful of carriage, gracious of manner, yet affecting a languor unsuited to her years, Louise Merrick was a girl calculated to draw from the passing throng glances of admiration and approval, and to convey the impression of good breeding and feminine cleverness.

All this, however, was outward.  Neither Patsy nor Beth displayed any undue affection for their cousin, although all of the girls exhibited a fair amount of cousinly friendship for one another.  They had once been thrown together under trying circumstances, when various qualities of temperament not altogether admirable were liable to assert themselves.  Those events were too recent to be already forgotten, yet the girls were generous enough to be considerate of each others’ failings, and had resolved to entertain no sentiment other than good will on the eve of their departure for such a charming outing as Uncle John had planned for them.