"How odd it is, Giusippe," Jean mused³ one day, "that we each have an uncle waiting for us. And besides that you have an aunt, too, haven't you? I wish I had. I'd love to have an aunt! As it is I have only Beacon."

 

"Maybe you'll have one some day," was Giusippe's vaguely⁴ consoling answer. "But anyway I shouldn't think you would care much. You have Miss Cartright, and she is almost as good as an aunt."

 

"I suppose she is something like one," admitted Jean, "only, you see, she doesn't live where I do, so I can't see her very often. Of course she has sent me nice letters since she got home to New York and sometimes she writes Uncle Bob, too; but it isn't really like seeing her. When I think that the day after to-morrow she is to meet us in New York it seems too good to be true. Won't it be fun? I love Miss Cartright! Do you suppose she looks just the same as she did when she was with us on the steamer?"

 

"I suppose so. Your uncle said she did when he saw her in New York."

 

"I know it. He has had lots of chances to see her because he has been over there so many times on business trips. I wish we had. But we shall see her now, anyway. Oh, I am so glad!" Jean whirled enthusiastically round the room. "I think we are to have a pretty nice visit in New York if we do all the things Uncle Bob is planning to. He says he is going to take us to the studio of one of his friends and show us how stained glass windows are made. I shall like to see that, sha'n't you?"

 

So the boy and girl chattered⁵ on little dreaming, in the delight of the pleasures in store for them, how lonely at heart were Mr. Cabot and poor Hannah.

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