parlor, and hold "a council of war," in the
course of which Annie Foster was discussed, from her bonnet to her
shoes.

Mrs. Foster had been abundantly affectionate in greeting her daughter;
but, when once they were alone in the wee sitting-room of the old Kinzer
homestead, she put her arms around her, saying,--

"Now, my darling, tell me what it all means."

"Why, mother, it was partly my mistake, and partly the flagman's and the
driver's; and I'm sure Mrs. Kinzer was kind. She knew me before I said a
word, by my resemblance to you."

"Oh, I don't mean that! How is it you are here so soon? I thought you
meant to make a long visit at your uncle Hart's."

"So I would, mother, if it had not been for those boys."

"Your cousins, Annie?"

"Cousins, mother! You never saw such young bears in all your life. They
tormented me from morning till night."

"But, Annie, I hope you have not offended"--

"Offended, mother? Aunt Maria thinks they're perfect, and so does uncle
Joe. They'd let them pull the house down over their heads, you'd think."

"But, Annie, what did they do? and what did you say?"

"Do, mother? I couldn't tell you in all day; but when they poured ink
over my cuffs and collars, I said I would come home. I had just one pair
left white to wear home, and I travelled all night."

Poor Mrs. Foster! A cold shudder went over her at the idea of that ink
among the spotless contents of her own collar-box.

"What boys they must be! but, Annie, what did your aunt say?"

"Uncle Joe laughed till he cried; and Aunt Maria said, 'Boys will be
boys;' and I half believe they were sorry; but that was only a sort of a
winding-up, I wouldn't stay there another day."

Annie had other things to tell; and, long before she had finished her
story, there was no further fault to be found with her for losing her
temper. Still her mother said mildly,--

"I must write to Maria at once, for it won't do to let those boys make
trouble between us."

Annie looked at her with an expression of face which very plainly
said,--

"Nobody in the wide world could have the heart to quarrel with you."

CHAPTER VIII.

A RESCUE, AND A GRAND GOOD TIME.

Dab Kinzer and his friend were prompt enough coming to the rescue of
their unfortunate fellow-lubber; but to get him out of the queer wreck
he had made of that punt looked like a tough task to both of them, and
they said as much.

"I isn't drownin'," exclaimed Dick heroically, a