a good time,
there's darlings. And don't forget he's your visitor, so be very extra
nice to him.'

I have sometimes thought it was the fault of what mother said about the
visitor that made what did happen happen, but I am almost sure really
that it was the fault of us, though I did not see it at the time, and
even now I'm sure we didn't mean to be unkind. Quite the opposite. But
the events of life are very confusing, especially when you try to think
what made you do them, and whether you really meant to be naughty or
not. Quite often it is not--but it turns out just the same.

When the cab had carried mother away--Hilda said it was like a dragon
carrying away a queen--we said, 'How do you do' to our Cousin Sidney,
who replied, 'Quite well, thank you.'

And then, curiously enough, no one could think of anything more to say.

Then Rupert--which is me--remembered that about being a visitor, and he
said:

'Won't you come into the drawing-room?'

He did when he had taken off his gloves and overcoat. There was a fire
in the drawing-room, because we had been going to have games there with
mother, only the telegram came about Aunt Ellie.

So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought of nothing to
say harder than ever.

Hilda did say, 'How old are you?' but, of course, we knew the answer to
that. It was ten.

And Hugh said, 'Do you like England or India best?'

And our cousin replied, 'India ever so much, thank you.'

I never felt such a duffer. It was awful. With all the millions of
interesting things that there are to say at other times, and I couldn't
think of one. At last I said, 'Do you like games?'

[Illustration: So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought
of nothing to say harder than ever.]

And our cousin replied, 'Some games I do,' in a tone that made me sure
that the games he liked wouldn't be our kind, but some wild Indian sort
that we didn't know.

I could see that the others were feeling just like me, and I knew we
could not go on like this till tea-time. And yet I didn't see any other
way to go on in. It was Hilda who cut the Gorgeous knot at last. She
said:

'Hugh, let you and I go and make a lovely surprise for Rupert and
Sidney.'

And before I could think of any way of stopping them without being
downright rude to our new cousin, they had fled the scene, just like any
old conspirators. Rupert--me, I mean--was left alone with the stranger.
I said:

'Is there anyt