“You are expected to rave about Mrs. Henderson’s beauty,” said the cousin, Dolores Mohun, as she opened Miss Mohun’s gate, between two copper beeches, while Anna listened to the merry tongues, almost bewildered by the chatter, so unlike the seclusion and silent watching of the last month; but when Mysie Merrifield asked, “Is it not quite overwhelming?” she said—-

“Oh no! it is like being among them all at Vale Leston.  My sisters always tell me my tongue wants greasing when I come down.”

Her tongue was to have exercise enough among the bevy of damsels who surrounded her in Miss Mohun’s drawing-room-—four Merrifields, ranging from twenty-two to twelve years old, and one cousin, Dolores Mohun, with a father in New Zealand.

“Won’t you be in the Mouse-trap?” presently asked number three, by name Valetta.

“If I did not know that she would drag it in!” cried Dolores.

“What may it be?” asked Anna.

“An essay society and not an essay society,” was the lucid answer.  “Gillian said you would be sure to belong to it.”

“I am afraid I can’t if it takes much time,” said Anna in a pleading tone.  “My uncle is very far from well, and I have a good deal to do in the way of reading to him, and my little brother is coming to go to school with yours.”

“Mr. Underwood brought his little boy,” said Gillian.  “Fergus said he was one of the jolliest little chaps he had ever seen.”

“Uncle Reginald quite lost his heart to him,” said Mysie, “and Aunt Jane says he is a charming little fellow.”

“Oh, Felix Underwood!” said Anna.  “Adrian is much more manly.  You should see him ride and climb trees.”

The comparative value of brothers and cousins was very apparent.  However, it was fixed that Anna should attend the Mouse-trap, and hear and contribute as she could find time.

“I did the Erl King,” said Valetta.

“’Who rideth so late in the forest so wild? 
It is the fond father and his loving child.’”

“Oh, spare us, Val,” cried her sister Gillian.  “Every one has done that.”

“Gerald parodied mine,” said Anna.

“’Who trampeth so late in a shocking bad hat? 
’Tis the tipsy old father a-hugging his brat.”

“Oh, go on.”

“I can’t recollect any more, but the Erl King’s daughter is a beggar-woman, and it ends with—-

“I’ll give thee a tanner and make him a bait,
So in the gin palace was settled his fate.”

Some of the party were scandalized, others laughed as much or more than the effusion deserved.

“We accept drawings,” added another voice, “and if any one does anything extraordinarily good in that way, or in writing, it makes a little book.”

“We have higher designs than that,” said Gillian.  “We want to print the cream.”

“For the benefit of the school board—-no, the board school.”

“Oh! oh!  Valetta!” cried the general voice.