“Or a cousin, maybe, sir?” suggested Kitty, turning away her head.

CHAPTER XXXI.

The Fox under the robe.

Dora sitting upon the doorstep, with Sunshine nestled close beside her, was quite astonished to see Mr. Brown appearing from the forest with Kitty, as his letter had named no day for his arrival; and she had not expected him so soon.

She went to meet him, however, with a greeting of unaffected cordiality; and as, while holding out her hand, she raised to his her clear and steadfast eyes, the young man’s somewhat serious face lighted with a sudden, happy glow, making it so handsome, that Kitty, eagerly watching the meeting, turned white to the very lips, and hastily passed on toward the house.

“Come, Dolce,” said she, “I will put you to bed.  Dora’s lover has come to see her, and she won’t have a look for either of us to-night.”

“I love you, Kitty; and I don’t mind if you did throw away my moss.  I won’t bring any more into the house.”

But Sunshine, well disposed as, through Dora’s careful suggestions, she had become toward Kitty, was rather alarmed than pleased at the sudden embrace in which she found herself wrapped, and the eager kisses, among which Kitty whispered,—­

“O Dolce! do you, do you love poor Kitty a little?  You’re an angel, and I’m real sorry about the moss; but you can get some more, can’t you?  I’ll help you hunt for it to-morrow while they’re gone to walk or ride.  They’ll be off all day; but we won’t mind.  Do you love me, Dolly?”

“Yes, I do, Kitty; and I know a place where the moss is so thick, you can’t step unless you put your foot on it.  But I didn’t, ’cause”—­

“’Cause what, you darling?”

“’Cause the little creatures that live in the woods come and dance there nights, and they wouldn’t like it if it was dirty.”

“What creatures?  The woodchucks?”

“Why, no, Aunt Kitty! the little girls and boys, or something.  They whisper way off among the trees, and dance too, just when the sun sets.  Didn’t you ever see them skipping in and out among the trees just as far off as you could look?”

“Those are shadows, Dolly; and the whispering in the trees is the wind.  You mustn’t have so many fancies, child, or by and by you’ll get cracked.”

“Then you can boil me in milk, just as you did the teacup,” murmured Sunshine, half asleep.

Kitty made no answer, but, smoothing the sheet over the little girl, went to seat herself at the open window.

Far off upon the prairie she heard the night-winds come and go,—­now moaning like some vast spirit wandering disquieted, now falling soft and low as the breath of the sleeping earth; and the vague voice and the cool touch seemed to quiet the fever of the young girl’s heart, although she knew not how or why.