her fingers quickly moved, she looked with wide, brilliant eyes at the
Baroness.

"And what is your son's name?" said Eugenia, smiling at the young man.

"My name is Clifford Wentworth, ma'am," he said in a tremulous voice.

"Why did n't you come out to meet me, Mr. Clifford Wentworth?" the
Baroness demanded, with her beautiful smile.

"I did n't think you would want me," said the young man, slowly sidling
about.

"One always wants a beau cousin,--if one has one! But if you are very
nice to me in future I won't remember it against you." And Madame M;
auunster transferred her smile to the other persons present. It rested
first upon the candid countenance and long-skirted figure of Mr. Brand,
whose eyes were intently fixed upon Mr. Wentworth, as if to beg him not
to prolong an anomalous situation. Mr. Wentworth pronounced his name.
Eugenia gave him a very charming glance, and then looked at the other
gentleman.

This latter personage was a man of rather less than the usual stature
and the usual weight, with a quick, observant, agreeable dark eye, a
small quantity of thin dark hair, and a small mustache. He had been
standing with his hands in his pockets; and when Eugenia looked at him
he took them out. But he did not, like Mr. Brand, look evasively and
urgently at their host. He met Eugenia's eyes; he appeared to appreciate
the privilege of meeting them. Madame Munster instantly felt that he
was, intrinsically, the most important person present. She was not
unconscious that this impression was in some degree manifested in the
little sympathetic nod with which she acknowledged Mr. Wentworth's
announcement, "My cousin, Mr. Acton!"

"Your cousin--not mine?" said the Baroness.

"It only depends upon you," Mr. Acton declared, laughing.

The Baroness looked at him a moment, and noticed that he had very white
teeth. "Let it depend upon your behavior," she said. "I think I
had better wait. I have cousins enough. Unless I can also claim
relationship," she added, "with that charming young lady," and she
pointed to the young girl at the window.

"That 's my sister," said Mr. Acton. And Gertrude Wentworth put her arm
round the young girl and led her forward. It was not, apparently, that
she needed much leading. She came toward the Baroness with a light,
quick step, and with perfect self-possession, rolling her stocking
round its needles. She had dark blue eyes and dark brown hair; she was
wonderfully pretty.

Eugenia k