fort to have a man, however young, on the premises. Willis
sleeps in the barn, and he is deaf, and would be of little use. He
couldn't even be of the smallest use, if we should be murdered in our
beds."

"Oh, but we are not going to be murdered, Cousin Sophronia," said
Margaret, lightly. "We are going to be very courageous, and just let
that noise understand that we care nothing whatever about it."

"Margaret, my love, you are trivial," responded Miss Sophronia,
peevishly. "I wish you would pay attention when I speak. I ask Mr.
Merryweather to take tea with us, and you talk about noises. Very
singular, I am sure."

"Oh, but of course it would be very pleasant, indeed, to have Mr.
Merryweather take tea with us!" cried Margaret, in some confusion. "I
hope you will come, Mr. Merryweather."

It appeared that nothing in the habitable universe would give Mr.
Merryweather greater pleasure. At half-past six? He would not fail to be
on hand; and if there should be noises again, why--let those who made
them look to themselves. And, with this, the young man took his leave.

The children were very troublesome that day. Margaret could not seem to
lay her hand on any one of them. If she called Basil, he was "in the
barn, Cousin Margaret, helping Willis with the hay. Of course I'll come,
if you want me, but Willis seems to need me a good deal, if you don't
mind."

When it was time for Susan D.'s sewing, the child came most obediently
and affectionately; but her thimble was nowhere to be found, and she had
mislaid her spool, and, finally, when everything was found, she had not
sat still ten minutes, when she was "_so_ thirsty; and must go and get a
glass of water, please, Cousin Margaret!"

"Susan," said Margaret, "I want to talk to you, and I cannot seem to get
a chance for a word. Sit still now, like a good little girl, and tell
me--"

"Yes, Cousin Margaret, I couldn't find my thimble first, you see; and
then there wasn't any spool, and I left it in my basket yesterday, I'm
sure I did, but Merton _will_ take it to teach the kitten tricks with,
and then it gets all dirty. Don't you know how horrid a spool is when a
kitten has been playing with it? You have to wind off yards and yards,
and then the rest is sort of fruzzly, and keeps making knots."

"Yes, I know. Susan D., what were you doing last evening?" said
Margaret.

"Last evening?" repeated the child. "We were in the summer-house,
Cousin Margaret. We were playing Sco