What Mehitabel said was certainly true—­Dave was a very trying boy.  Though possessing naturally some good qualities, he had been so humored and indulged that his own will had become his law; he loved to tease, and hated to be thwarted in the slightest degree, and this made him often very exacting and tyrannical.  Miss Higginson called him a “most exasperating boy,” and she wasn’t far wrong.  He teased Kate and Eva so much that they hated to go into his room, or even in the gondola when he took, now and then, an airing.  But, to everybody’s surprise, he and Stevie got on better than was expected.  Part of the secret of this lay in the fact that Dave had lived in America all his life—­had just come from there, and was able to give Stevie long and glowing accounts of that country and everything in it—­as seen from the other boy’s standpoint.  Stevie’s rapt attention and implicit faith in him flattered Dave, and beside, though he wouldn’t have acknowledged it for the world, he found the little fellow’s willing ministrations very much pleasanter than those of the French valet, whose patience he had soon exhausted.  And Stevie felt so sorry for the boy who had dearly loved to run and leap and climb, and who now lay so helpless that he could not even sit up for five minutes.  Dave’s heart was very sore over it sometimes—­once or twice he had let Stevie see it; and then he had no dear loving mother as Stevie had, and his papa had never talked to him as Stevie’s papa did to his little boy.  So Stevie tried with all the strength of his brave, tender little heart to be patient with his cousin.

But, as Mehitabel would say, “human nature is human nature;” they both had quick tempers and strong wills; and for all Stevie’s good intentions, many a lively quarrel took place in the guest room, of which they both fancied the old housekeeper knew nothing.  She had threatened that if Dave “abused” Stevie she would separate the boys at once, even if she had to mount guard over the invalid herself; so with Spartan-like fortitude both kept their grievances to themselves—­Dave because he disliked and was a little afraid of Miss Higginson, whom he had nicknamed the “dragon,” and Stevie because he had really grown very fond of Dave, and knew how utterly dependent he was on him.  But one day Stevie completely lost his temper and got so angry that he declared to himself he’d “just give up the whole thing.”

Stevie had felt a little cross himself that morning, and Dave had been unbearable; the consequence was the most serious quarrel they had ever had.  In a fit of violent rage Dave threw everything he could lay hands on at Stevie—­books, cushions, and last a pretty paper-weight.  The books and cushions Stevie dodged, but the paper-weight hit him on the shin, a sharp enough blow to bring tears to his eyes and the angry blood to his cheeks.  Catching up a cushion that lay near, he sent it whizzing at Dave, and had the satisfaction of seeing it hit his cousin full in the face; then, before Dave could retaliate, he slipped into the hall and slammed the door of the guest room.