Edna answered, "but I suppose all the aunts and
cousins and uncles that can get there. Aunt Lucia and Uncle Bert and of
course Aunt Alice and her boys, Ben and his brother. Ben will have to
go, and I'm awfully glad; he's my favoritest cousin."

"How about Louis?"

"He is not any relation to grandma and grandpa Willis, is he?"

"I don't know; I never could get relations straight. I hope he isn't any
kin to them and I am sorry he is to us, for he is a pill. You know he
is, no matter what you say. Just look how he acted last summer. You
needn't try to excuse him, for Dorothy told me all about it."

Edna could not deny facts, for it was quite true that her cousin Louis
was not above blame in sundry instances, so she changed the subject by
saying, "I think I'll go over to Dorothy's anyhow."

The boys did not try to detain her and she ran out along the road and up
to the old-fashioned house where her friend Dorothy Evans lived. Dorothy
was playing with her kitten out on the side porch. She had dressed the
little creature in long clothes and was walking up and down singing to
it as it lay contentedly in her arms, it's two gray paws sticking out
from the sleeves of a little red sacque belonging to one of Dorothy's
dolls.

"Doesn't Tiddlywinks look funny?" said Dorothy by way of greeting. "And
isn't he good? I believe he likes to be dressed up, for he lies as
still as anything. Of course, if he fussed and meowed, I would take off
the things and let him go."

Edna touched the soft silvery paws gently. "I believe he does like it,"
she returned. "See, he shuts his eyes exactly as if he felt nice and
cozy. Oh, Dorothy, guess what! We are all going to grandpa Willis's next
week. We are all going for Thanksgiving, only mother and I are going
first. Isn't that lovely?"

"Lovely for you, I suppose," replied Dorothy dejectedly, "but I shall
miss you dreadfully."

"Oh, no, you won't, when you have Margaret and Nettie so near. Besides I
shall not be gone long, not more than a week."

"Are there any girls there?" asked Dorothy, a little jealously.

"Not like us. There is a little girl, mother says, that grandma has
taken in to help her and Amanda; Amanda is the woman who lives there
and cooks and churns and does all sorts of things."

"Is it in the real country?"

"It is real country and yet it isn't, for it is a village. Grandpa has a
farm, but just across the street is a store and the church is only a few
steps away, and