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 clustering up beside rock-hewn stairs.

The launch puffed alongside, at last, and Aunt Cynthia stood on the deck. She was tall and slender and laughing; her coppery hair was fastened in shining coils low on her neck, and her hazel eyes were very much like Fen's, except that in her eyes was all happiness and light, while in the depths of his was the shadow of his suffering. She kissed Sally and Larry and Mrs. Norvell, and then turned and went quickly to Fen. Taking both his hands in hers, she kissed him very gravely, and they looked into each other's eyes.

"Upon my word, Cynthia," cried Norvell, "how much Fen looks like you! I'd never thought of it before,—had you, Emily?"

"It's because we both have red hair—isn't it. Fen?" said Auntie, laughing.

"No," said her brother, "it's a lot more than that, somehow."