“The bumps?” asked Arthur, as the wagon gave a jolt a bit more emphatic than usual; “yes, Patsy dear, I get them all; but I won’t pass judgment on Millville and Uncle John’s farm just yet.  Are we ’most there?”

“We’re to have four whole months of it,” sighed Beth.  “That ought to enable us to renew our youth, after the strenuous winter.”

“Rubbish!” said Uncle John.  “You haven’t known a strenuous moment, my dears, and you’re all too young to need renewals, anyhow.  But if you can find happiness here, my girls, our old farm will become a paradise.”

These three nieces of Mr. Merrick were well worth looking at.  Louise, the eldest, was now twenty—­entirely too young to be a bride; but having decided to marry Arthur Weldon, the girl would brook no interference and, having a will of her own, overcame all opposition.  Her tall, slender form was exceedingly graceful and willowy, her personality dainty and refined, her temperament under ordinary conditions essentially sweet and agreeable.  In crises Louise developed considerable character, in strong contrast with her usual assumption of well-bred composure.  That the girl was insincere in little things and cultivated a polished manner to conceal her real feelings, is undeniable; but in spite of this she might be relied upon to prove loyal and true in emergencies.

Patricia Doyle was more than two years the junior of her cousin Louise and very unlike her.  Patsy’s old father, Major Gregory Doyle, said “she wore her heart on her sleeve,” and the girl was frank and outspoken to a fault.  Patsy had no “figure” to speak of, being somewhat dumpy in build, nor were her piquant features at all beautiful.  Her nose tipped at the end, her mouth was broad and full-lipped and her complexion badly freckled.  But Patsy’s hair was of that indescribable shade that hovers between burnished gold and sunset carmine.  “Fiery red” she was wont to describe it, and most people considered it, very justly, one of her two claims to distinction.  Her other admirable feature was a pair of magnificent deep blue eyes—­merry, mischievous and scintillating as diamonds.  Few could resist those eyes, and certain it is that Patsy Doyle was a universal favorite and won friends without a particle of effort.

The younger of the three nieces, Elizabeth De Graf, was as beautiful a girl as you will often discover, one of those rarely perfect creations that excite our wonder and compel admiration—­as a beautiful picture or a bit of statuary will.  Dreamy and reserved in disposition, she lacked the graciousness of Louise and Patsy’s compelling good humor; yet you must not think her stupid or disagreeable.  Her reserve was really diffidence; her dreamy, expressionless gaze the result of a serious nature and a thoughtful temperament.  Beth was quite practical and matter-of-fact, the reverse of Patsy’s imaginative instincts or Louise’s affected indifference.  Those who knew Beth De Graf best loved her dearly, but strangers found her hard to approach and were often repulsed by her unresponsive manner.  Underneath all, the girl was a real girl, with many splendid qualities, and Uncle John relied upon Beth’s stability more than on that of his other two nieces.  Her early life had been a stormy and unhappy one, so she was but now developing her real nature beneath the warmth of her uncle’s protecting love.