id; so dry your eyes, or you will be somebody's duckling instead
of my chicken!"

The next surprise was a visit from Cousin Ann Chadwick, who drove up to
the door one morning quite unannounced, and asked the driver of the
depot wagon to bring over her two trunks immediately.

"Two trunks!" groaned Gilbert. "That means the whole season!"

But it meant nothing of the kind; it meant pretty white dresses for the
three girls, two pairs of stockings and two of gloves for the whole
family, a pattern of black silk for Mrs. Carey, and numberless small
things to which the Carey wardrobe had long been a stranger.

Having bestowed these offerings rather grimly, as was her wont, and
having received the family's grateful acknowledgments with her usual
lack of grace, she proceeded in the course of a few days to make herself
far more disagreeable than had been the case on any previous visit of
her life. She had never seen such dusty roads as in Beulah; so many
mosquitoes and flies; such tough meat; such a lack of fruit, such
talkative, over-familiar neighbors, such a dull minister, such an
inattentive doctor, such extortionate tradesmen.

"What shall we do with Cousin Ann!" exclaimed Mrs. Carey to Nancy in
despair. "She makes us these generous presents, yet she cannot possibly
have any affection for us. We accept them without any affection for her,
because we hardly know how to avoid it. The whole situation is
positively degrading! I have borne it for years because she was good to
your father when he was a boy, but now that she has grown so much more
difficult I really think I must talk openly with her."

"She talked openly enough with me when I confessed that Gilbert and I
had dropped and broken the Dirty Boy!" said Nancy, "and she has been
very cross with me ever since."

"Cousin Ann," said Mrs. Carey that afternoon on the piazza, "it is very
easy to see that you do not approve of the way we live, or the way we
think about things in general. Feeling as you do, I really wish you
would not spend your money on us, and give us these beautiful and
expensive presents. It puts me under an obligation that chafes me and
makes me unhappy."

"I don't disapprove of you, particularly," said Miss Chadwick. "Do I act
as if I did?"

"Your manner seems to suggest it."

"You can't tell much by manners," replied Cousin Ann. "I think you're
entirely too soft and sentimental, but we all have our faults. I don't
think you have any right to fee