oyfully. "But I'd like it better if it was
the boy who was almost my age. He looks the nicest of the bunch. The big
girl is homely--"

"Peace!"

"Well, it ain't her fault, I know, and I wouldn't mind how homely she
was if she looked _sweet_, but she doesn't. She looks 'sif she thought
she owned the earth and I never did like a _darnimeering_ person. Now
Tom--his name is Tom, isn't it?"

"No, dear, it is Henderson. Henderson Meadows."

"Oh! Why, I was sure it was Tom; he has such a Tom-ish look--"

A shout of derision interrupted her, but she stoutly declared, "Well, he
has! Boys named Tom are always nice--all I ever knew. I'm sorry his name
is Henderson. It doesn't sound a bit like him."

"You are a queer chick," said the President indulgently, "but I quite
agree with you in regard to Henderson. He is a splendid fellow, however,
in spite of his long name. They ought to have called him Ned Junior. He
is big Ned all over again, just as Belle the second is the counterpart
of her mother. Lorene is the odd piece. Every family has one odd one, I
believe. Lorene is like neither her father nor mother."

"What funny names! They are as bad as ours. But I should like to know
the children--the folks, I mean. I s'pose Belle is too old to be called
a child any longer, ain't she?"

"Yes, Belle is sixteen and stylish," he answered grimly, as if that told
the story, and it really did, for little more could be said of the
frivolous, society-loving girl, brought up to follow in the footsteps of
her worldly mother.

"Do they come here often?" ventured Gail, still studying the group, none
of whom looked really happy.

"No, oh no," Mrs. Campbell answered hastily. "Martindale is too quiet
for Mrs. Meadows. Ned sent Henderson and Lorene up here for a month last
summer, but Belle has never been our guest. Grandpa and I have visited
them twice in Chicago, but that is all we have ever seen them."

"I wish they lived nearer," sighed Peace. "We never had any cousins of
our own, but maybe they'd adopt us too, like you did; then we'd know
what it feels like to have real relations."

"Suppose you write Lorene. I think she would enjoy getting letters from
a little girl so near her own age."

"That _would_ be nice, s'posing I liked to write letters," Peace
assented, "but I don't. I'll send her a Christmas present, though; and
a valentine when it comes time, and a birthday gift, too. She will like
that, won't she? What street does she liv