Oscar now learned that they were yet five miles from Brookdale, and that as the stage did not pass any nearer to his uncle’s, Jerry had come over with a horse to take his father home.  There being but one seat to the wagon, Mr. Preston and Oscar took possession of it, while Jerry seated himself on the floor behind them.  While on the way to Brookdale, Oscar addressed several remarks to his cousin; but the latter seemed shy, and they did not get acquainted with each other very fast.  They passed but very few houses, and Oscar looked in vain for any signs of a village.  At length, when he thought they could not be far from their journey’s end, he inquired: 

“Where is the village, uncle John?  Shan’t we see any of it, going to your house?”

“This is the village,” replied Mr. Preston.

“This a village!” exclaimed Oscar; “why, I don’t see any houses.”

“This is all the village there is,” replied his uncle; “there are hardly any two houses in sight of each other in the town.”

They were now approaching an old, two-story farmhouse, in the doorway of which a woman and several children were standing, looking towards them.  This proved to be the end of their journey.  Having driven the wagon into the large barn which stood nearly opposite the house, Mr. Preston left Jerry to put up the horse, and proceeded at once to the house with his nephew.  Mrs. Preston had seen Oscar in Boston, and came out to meet him.  She welcomed him very cordially, and inquired after all the other members of the family.  She then introduced him to his three other cousins, Emily, Harriet, and Mary, all of whom were younger than Jerry, and quite as shy and silent as he, at the presence of a stranger.

Supper was now ready, and all the family, including James, the hired man, seated themselves at the table.  Mr. Preston, during the meal, talked freely of what he had seen and done since he left home; but the children maintained their gravity and silence, though Oscar tried hard to break the ice of restraint with Jerry, who sat by his side.  A strange face was an unusual thing among them, and they could not get over it in a moment.

After supper, Mrs. Preston and her oldest daughter cleared off the table and washed the dishes; James and Jerry went out to the barn; Mr. Preston sat down to a table to examine some papers he had in his pocket-book; while Harriet and Mary remained, to keep Oscar company.  The latter now began to make advances towards his youngest cousin, who was the prettiest and most interesting of the children.  A little coaxing brought her to his side.

“Do you know what my name is, Sissy?” he inquired.

“Yes; it’s Oscar,” she replied.

“Oscar what?” he inquired.

“Cousin Oscar,” she answered, after a little hesitation.

“Yes, but that is n’t all of it,” replied Oscar; “don’t you know the other part of it—­Cousin Oscar——­what?”