The Massasoit was close at hand, and in less then five minutes the girls and papa were seated at a table in its pleasant dining-room.  They were ordering their breakfast, when Mr. Page came in, accompanied by his daughter,—­a pretty girl, with light hair, delicate, rather sharp features, and her mother’s stylish ease of manner.  Her travelling dress was simple, but had the finish which a French dressmaker knows how to give to a simple thing; and all its appointments—­boots, hat, gloves, collar, neck ribbon—­were so perfect, each in its way, that Clover, glancing down at her own gray alpaca, and then at Katy’s, felt suddenly countrified and shabby.

“Well, Lilly, here they are:  here are your cousins,” said Mr. Page, giving the girls a cordial greeting.  Lilly only said, “How do you do?” Clover saw her glancing at the gray alpacas, and was conscious of a sudden flush.  But perhaps Lilly looked at something inside the alpaca; for after a minute her manner changed, and became more friendly.

“Did you order waffles?” she asked.

“Waffles? no, I think not,” replied Katy.

“Oh! why not?  Don’t you know how celebrated they are for waffles at this hotel?  I thought everybody knew that.”  Then she tinkled her fork against her glass, and, when the waiter came, said, “Waffles, please,” with an air which impressed Clover extremely.  Lilly seemed to her like a young lady in a story,—­so elegant and self-possessed.  She wondered if all the girls at Hillsover were going to be like her?

The waffles came, crisp and hot, with delicious maple syrup to eat on them; and the party made a satisfactory breakfast.  Lilly, in spite of all her elegance, displayed a wonderful appetite.  “You see,” she explained to Clover, “I don’t expect to have another decent thing to eat till next September,—­not a thing; so I’m making the most of this.”  Accordingly she disposed of nine waffles, in quick succession, before she found time to utter any thing farther, except “Butter, please,” or, “May I trouble you for the molasses?” As she swallowed the last morsel, Dr. Carr, looking at his watch, said that it was time to start for the train; and they set off.  As they crossed the street, Katy was surprised to see that Lilly, who had seemed quite happy only a minute before, had begun to cry.  After they reached the car, her tears increased to sobs:  she grew almost hysterical.

“Oh! don’t make me go, papa,” she implored, clinging to her father’s arm.  “I shall be so homesick!  It will kill me; I know it will.  Please let me stay.  Please let me go home with you.”

“Now, my darling,” protested Mr. Page, “this is foolish; you know it is.”

“I can’t help it,” blubbered Lilly.  “I ca—­n’t help it.  Oh! don’t make me go.  Don’t, papa dear.  I ca—­n’t bear it.”