"Indeed I do," said the bright voice. "So this is Katy? Why, what a
splendid tall Katy it is! And this is Clover," kissing her; "and this
dear little Elsie. You all look as natural as possible--just as if I had
seen you before."
And she hugged them all round, not as if it was polite to like them
because they were relations, but as if she had loved them and wanted
them all her life.
There was something in Cousin Helen's face and manner, which made the
children at home with her at once. Even Philly, who had backed away with
his hands behind him, after staring hard for a minute or two, came up
with a sort of rush to get his share of kissing.
Still, Katy's first feeling was one of disappointment. Cousin Helen was
not at all like "Lucy," in Mrs. Sherwood's story. Her nose turned up the
least bit in the world. She had brown hair, which didn't curl, a brown
skin, and bright eyes, which danced when she laughed or spoke. Her face
was thin, but except for that you wouldn't have guessed that she was
sick. She didn't fold her hands, and she didn't look patient, but
absolutely glad and merry. Her dress wasn't a "frilled wrapper," but a
sort of loose travelling thing of pretty gray stuff, with a rose-colored
bow, and bracelets, and a round hat trimmed with a gray feather.
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