ival, and
between the Babson girls stood little Hi Babson, their cousin, whose
mother had determined that during his three months' visit he should attend
school. Taking his hand, Belinda walked to the teacher's desk with a view
to introducing him.

"This is my little cousin," she began, but was promptly interrupted by Hi
who remarked,

"I ain't little, I'm a big boy."

"And he wants to come to school, Miss Gilman."

"No I don't want ter come ter school, an' I wouldn't only ma made me,"
remarked Hi, determined to have his attitude plainly understood.

Miss Gilman smiled as she looked at the rebellious little face, saying,
kindly, "Perhaps you will enjoy school when you are acquainted with some
of the scholars."

"I know Randy Weston's little sister, and I'd like ter sit side of her;
she's some fun, 'sides she's littler'n I be," said Hi.

Miss Gilman thought best to humor this, his first request, so he took his
seat beside Prue who smiled sweetly upon him, and the small boy at once
decided that school with Prue for a friend might be as attractive as
staying at home under the watchful eyes of Grandma Babson.

"It's only quarter of nine," Phoebe Small was saying, "and I rushed about
like everything, thinking I should be late."

"I didn't have to hurry," said Randy, laughing, "for I was so sure that I
was late when I awoke, that I never looked to see what time it was, but
flew around doing what I could before breakfast toward getting ready for
school. Then I began to wonder why mother didn't call me, and I looked at
the clock. It was an hour before breakfast time!"

"Oh what a waste of strength," said Jack Marvin, with a well affected
yawn. "I got started first and called fer my cousin Dot, and by tugging
her all the way I managed to get her here, too."

The Langham twins, to whom Jack was very attentive, looked at each other
in amazement. They admired Jack, but was he untruthful? The idea that he
was joking never occurred to them.

Reuben Jenks described them as "joke proof," as they had never been known
to see the point of any witticism, and if it chanced to be explained
to them they would stare placidly at the speaker and then invariably
remark,

"Why I don't call that funny."

"I'm going to tell Miss Gilman that my name is Dorothea. I'm tired of
being called Dot, 'specially as I'm round and dumpy," remarked Jack's
cousin resolutely.

"I'll call you Dorothea every time as loud as I can roar it, see if I