less you boil the milk now. Safer, of course. Much safer.
But it imparts a curious flavour."

He took another sip.

"But--I didn't pour out your tea----" began Mrs. Brown.

Here William entered. He looked quickly at the table.

"Who's meddlin' with my frog?" he said angrily. "It's my hobby, an'
I'm stuffin' frogs an' someone's been an' took my frog. I left it on
the table."

"On the table?" said his mother.

"Yes. In a cup of tea. Gettin' tannin.' You know. For stuffin'. I was
puttin' him in tannin' first. I----"

Uncle George grew pale. In frozen silence he put a spoon into his cup
and investigated the contents. In still more frozen silence Mrs. Brown
and William watched. That moment held all the cumulative horror of a
Greek tragedy. Then Uncle George put down his cup and went silently
from the room. On his face was the expression of one who is going to
look up the first train home. Fate had sent him a buffet he could not
endure with equanimity, a misfortune at which he could not smile, and
Fate had avenged William for much.

CHAPTER VI

THE RIVALS

William was aware of a vague feeling of apprehension when he heard
that Joan Clive, the little girl who lived next door, was having a
strange cousin to stay for three weeks. All his life, William had
accepted Joan's adoration and homage with condescending indifference,
but he did not like to imagine a possible rival.

"What's he _coming_ for?" he demanded with an ungracious scowl,
perched uncomfortably and dangerously on the high wall that separated
the two gardens and glaring down at Joan. "What's he comin' _for_, any
way?"

"'Cause mother's invited him," explained Joan simply, with a shake of
her golden curls. "He's called Cuthbert. She says he's a sweet little
boy."

"_Sweet!_" echoed William in a tone of exaggerated horror. "Ugh!"

"Well," said Joan, with the smallest note of indignation in her voice,
"you needn't play with him if you don't like."

"_Me?_ Play? With _him_?" scowled William as if he could not believe
his ears. "I'm not likely to go playin' with a kid like wot _he'll_
be!"

Joan raised aggrieved blue eyes.

"You're a _horrid_ boy sometimes, William!" she said. "Any way, I
shall have him to play with soon."

It was the first time he had received anything but admiration from
her.

He scowled speechlessly.

Cuthbert arrived the next morning.

William was restless and ill-at-ease, and several times climbed the
ladder for