house--that big white one at the turn of the
road," said the Story Girl. "I hope she has that dinner ready, Dan. I'm
hungry as a wolf after our walk."

"I wish Cousin Mattie's husband was still alive," said Dan. "He was an
awful nice old man. He always had his pockets full of nuts and apples.
I used to like going there better when he was alive. Too many old women
don't suit me."

"Oh, Dan, Cousin Mattie and her sisters-in-law are just as nice and kind
as they can be," reproached Cecily.

"Oh, they're kind enough, but they never seem to see that a fellow gets
over being five years old if he only lives long enough," retorted Dan.

"I know a story about Cousin Mattie's husband," said the Story Girl.
"His name was Ebenezer, you know--"

"Is it any wonder he was thin and stunted looking?" said Dan.

"Ebenezer is just as nice a name as Daniel," said Felicity.

"Do you REALLY think so, my angel?" inquired Dan, in honey-sweet tones.

"Go on. Remember your second resolution," I whispered to the Story Girl,
who was stalking along with an outraged expression.

The Story Girl swallowed something and went on.

"Cousin Ebenezer had a horror of borrowing. He thought it was simply
a dreadful disgrace to borrow ANYTHING. Well, you know he and Cousin
Mattie used to live in Carlisle, where the Rays now live. This was when
Grandfather King was alive. One day Cousin Ebenezer came up the hill and
into the kitchen where all the family were. Uncle Roger said he looked
as if he had been stealing sheep. He sat for a whole hour in the kitchen
and hardly spoke a word, but just looked miserable. At last he got up
and said in a desperate sort of way, 'Uncle Abraham, can I speak with
you in private for a minute?' 'Oh, certainly,' said grandfather, and
took him into the parlour. Cousin Ebenezer shut the door, looked
all around him and then said imploringly, 'MORE PRIVATE STILL.' So
grandfather took him into the spare room and shut that door. He was
getting frightened. He thought something terrible must have happened
Cousin Ebenezer. Cousin Ebenezer came right up to grandfather, took
hold of the lapel of his coat, and said in a whisper, 'Uncle Abraham,
CAN--YOU--LEND--ME--AN--AXE?'"

"He needn't have made such a mystery about it," said Cecily, who had
missed the point entirely, and couldn't see why the rest of us were
laughing. But Cecily was such a darling that we did not mind her lack of
a sense of humour.

"It's kind of mean to tell s