"
"Cousin Elizabeth is an author, isn't she?" inquired Patty, a little
timidly, for she had never seen a real, live author.
"Yes," said Mr. Fleming, "Elizabeth is an author, that is, she writes
novels when she isn't doing anything else; Barbara is a club woman, but she
writes too, more or less."
"And what do you do? Are you literary?"
"Yes, I'm writing a book, myself. It's a treatise on The Will, and I
flatter myself I have some novel theories; and then there's Ruth, you
know."
"Ruth, who is she?"
"Oh, she's our cousin, who lives with us. Not your cousin, you know. She is
father's brother's child, and her people live in the country; so, as she
has a fine mind, she lives with us in order to have the advantage of a
Boston education."
"How old is she?" asked Patty.
"Fourteen or fifteen, I think. She'll be company for you; I think you'll
like her, though she is very different from you."
"What is she like?" asked Patty, much interested in this new and unexpected
comrade.
"Why, she is quiet, and very studious, and--but you'll see her yourself,
to-morrow, so I'll let you form your own opinion.
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