"That makes me happier still," said Mrs. Mackenzie, in her stately way. "You are welcome."
"Thank you, Aunty; but I haven't come to be a burden to you, and I trust I never shall be. If I'm ever a trouble, I want you to tell me so and send me away. In the first place, I have fought most terribly with my aunt and uncle at Fort Wayne. They don't know I've come."
"Why, my dear! How could you?"
"Oh, they know it now," said Beatrice, laconically, with her head on one side. "If they don't, the suspense will do them good. Anyhow, they know I'm not there, and that's enough. You know I have a little income of my own, Aunty, so I'm not dependent upon any one, and I'm going to pay my board. If you won't let me," she continued, warningly, seeing disapproval on Mrs. Mackenzie's kindly face, "I'm going back with Captain Wells to-morrow, so now!"
"I'll let you do anything you want to, dear, if you'll only stay with me. I have needed a grown daughter ever since Katherine was married."
"Then it's all arranged, and I'll stay with you for ever. I know I never could fight with you."
"Here comes your uncle."
The trader beamed with delight when Beatrice cast herself upon him and kissed him twice. "I've come to live with you," she said, "and I've just fixed it with Aunt Eleanor. Captain Wells is over at the Fort with the soldiers. We brought ten with us – it was quite an army, and the Captain kept up military discipline all along the trail, with me for First Lieutenant. They're going to stay at the Fort, and I'm going to stay here." She pirouetted around him in high spirits.
"You're welcome, Bee; but how did it happen?"
"I fought," explained Beatrice, carelessly. "They told me what I should do and what I shouldn't. Nobody ever says 'must' to me. If you ever want me to do anything, you'll have to say 'please.' Would you mind going over to the Fort after my things, Uncle? I've got a big box with all my worldly goods inside of it."
Mackenzie went, for men always did as Beatrice suggested.
"Come in, dear," said her aunt. "You can have the east room, so you'll get the morning sun."
"How sweet you are, Aunt Eleanor," murmured the girl, with her arm thrown around the other's shoulders, for she was even taller than Mrs. Mackenzie. Her face had the deep, creamy tint which sometimes goes with violet eyes and brown hair with auburn lights in it. Beneath a short nose, tilted ever so slightly, was the most bewitching mouth in the world – small and perfect in shape, dangerously curved, and full of a daring coquetry. When she smiled, one saw that her teeth were small and white and absolutely even, but soon forgot that minor detail. At first glance, no one would have called her pretty; she was like something beautiful which must be studied before it is appreciated.
The arrival of the visitor had effectually broken up the school. "Tuzzin Bee! Tuzzin Bee!" crowed Maria Indiana, delightedly.
"You darling," cried Beatrice, catching the child in her arms; "have you remembered me a whole year?"
Robert was introduced as "a cousin on the other side of the house," and he bent gravely over the girl's hand.
"Are we truly cousins?" she asked.
There was a confused silence, then Robert found his tongue. "I trust we are," he said, with the air of a gentleman of the old school, "for you are the first flower of Spring."
The door burst open and Ronald entered. "What do you think," he shouted; "we've got troops! Captain Wells has brought ten soldiers to the Fort!"
"Miss Manning," said Mrs. Mackenzie, "let me present Ensign George Ronald, of Fort Dearborn."
Beatrice bowed, but he stared at her for an instant, then brought his heels together and raised his hand to his forehead in military salute. There was an awkward instant, then the deep crimson dyed the Ensign's face. He turned – and bolted.
From the window Beatrice saw him, in a pirogue, pulling back to the Fort as if his life depended upon it, then she laughed – a deep, sweet, vibrant laugh, that thrilled Robert to the very depths of his soul.
CHAPTER VI
COUSINS
"Aunty," said Beatrice, at breakfast the next morning, "do you think I scared him to death?"
"What do you mean, dear?"
"Why, that young man – yesterday. Mr. Ronald is his name, isn't it?"
Mrs. Mackenzie laughed at the memory of the Ensign's scarlet face. "I think he'll get over it," she said; "don't you, Rob?"
"I certainly do. He's the last man in the world to be afraid of a woman."
"Oh, yes, he'll recover," put in Mackenzie, significantly.
"I think it's lovely here," observed Beatrice, irrelevantly, "and I know I'm going to like it."
"We're going to try very hard to make you happy," said Forsyth, with evident sincerity.
"I've wanted to live with Aunt Eleanor ever since last Spring, when they all came to Fort Wayne. Otherwise, I wouldn't have fought. That is, perhaps I wouldn't."
Rising from the table, she went out on the piazza, and Robert instinctively followed her. If the long journey on horseback had tired her, she showed no sign of it, for she might have been a part of the morning as she stood there, smiling, with the sunlight on her wind-blown hair.
The heavy brown coil, with auburn lights and black shadows in it, had a strange fascination for Forsyth. He liked the way her hair grew around her forehead and temples, and the little curl that escaped at her neck. She was looking away from him, and he thought her unaware of his scrutiny till she said quietly: "Well, how do you like your new cousin? Do you think I will do?"
"Yes," he stammered, dimly grateful for the impulse that kept her face still turned away; "that is, very much."
"How am I going to get my horse over here," she demanded suddenly.
"What horse?" asked Robert, stupidly.
"The one I rode from Fort Wayne, of course. Did I understand you to say you had been to college?"
"Yes; I graduated."
"Really?" Beatrice turned upon him a dazzling smile. "I never should have thought it," she added pleasantly.
"Where is your horse?" he asked, crimsoning.
"You don't see it anywhere, do you?"
"N – no."
"Then, obviously, it's at the Fort, isn't it?"
"I – I suppose so."
"Well, then, we're making progress. Now, how do I get it over here?"
"Swim," said Robert, helplessly, at his wit's end.
Beatrice stamped her small foot upon the piazza. "Uncle John," she called, "come here! How is Queen coming across the river?" she asked, when he appeared.
"Well, now, Bee, I don't know. There's no bridge and no way to go around. She'll either have to come in a boat or swim."
Robert flashed a grateful glance at him, but said nothing.
"She won't get into a boat," said Beatrice, with a puzzled little frown on her face. "We swam a river together once, but she didn't like it, and we both got wet."
"Go down near the bar and come across," suggested Forsyth, having partially recovered his self-possession. "It can't be very deep there."
"No; but the sand is soft. Better leave her at the Fort, Bee, and you can go over there when you want her. It's safer," he added. "The Indians might get her out of my barn, but she'll be all right in the garrison stables."
"That settles it," replied Beatrice. "Here comes Captain Wells."
An erect, soldierly figure came up the path with the characteristic walk of the Indian. His eyes were small and dark, and his face was bronzed like the people among whom he had lived; but when he smiled at Beatrice and bowed with mock humility, all traces of the savage were instantly effaced. He wore the rough garb of the plainsman, and the