But Max couldn't get over her being so grown, for he kept on gazing
and gazing at Nannie, and she did look sweet, sitting there in the
firelight. Nora is very pretty,--her features are so regular; but Nannie
has a _dear_ face: her brown eyes are big and shining, and her hair is
so thick and pretty; it's light brown, and little locks of it get loose
and curl up round her forehead and ears, and when she talks and laughs I
think she's every bit as pretty as Nora. Somehow there's a look about
Nannie's face that makes you know you can trust her through and through;
I tell you I'm awfully glad she's in the family; in fact, I don't know
what we'd any of us do without her, from papa to Alan.
Well, we told Max every single thing that had happened--good, bad, and
indifferent--since he went away, including, of course, about Phil's
going to college, and Fee's not going, and about aunt Lindsay's present
to Fee and Nannie,--all talking together, and as loud as we pleased (we
always do with Max) until we came to the new people that had moved in
across the way--and what do you suppose? Max knows them!
"They are the Ervengs," he said, "and the boy's name is
Hilliard,--Hilliard Erveng.
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