“Hush, Nannie, that sounds too much like bragging,” interrupted Irene, “and you do not give the stranger any opportunity—”
“Nay, sister,” said the other playfully, “it is yourself now that is preventing the desired revelation.”
“Hist, sister Nan—”
The young man fixed his midnight eyes on the two, wondering in his heart which was the most beautiful—and in his marvel he forgot to satisfy the natural curiosity of the sisters as to who he was, until Nannie exclaimed with an arch naiveté that well became her dimpled face:
“Will you not walk in, and rest and refresh yourself, Mr.——; my mother will be in the highest degree gratified to entertain so distinguished a guest, Mr.——”
“Norwood,” quietly said the stranger.
“Norwood!” ejaculated both of the sisters.
Upon comparing notes, the family found the stranger to be a son of the eldest of the four brothers Norwood—the one who did not “come over” in person;—perhaps preferring to wait and send his present son as substitute.
This elder branch of the family had a title, and young Norwood, being a second son, might or might not become a baronet.
A refreshing dinner, a stroll in the garden and down in the meadow, to the brook-side with the bright sisters—Norwood being yet undecided as to which was the most beautiful—a daintily cooked and bountiful supper, completed the first day of him whom the Witch-Hazel had fantastically named the “dark-eyed Antelope.” And now evening set in; and a merrier or happier evening could not well have been conceived than the one enjoyed by the Norwoods. The gay Annie initiated her handsome cousin into the mystery of “peas porridge hot.” And the old hall rung again with the clapping of the little white hands of “Nannie,” and the more manly ones of young Norwood. While the gentle, quiet Irene sang old ballads for him, in her sweet tender voice. Occasionally the clear rich voice of “Nan” joined her sister’s in a harmonious duet.
Bed-time came at length, and to the new-found cousin was as-
