uppose it was because the
kings died, and all the sons were dead, if they ever had any. Well--I
don't know why woman shouldn't be 'most anything; but she isn't, and
that's all about it. There's more than one man wanted to marry the
madam, but she's wise not to take a spendthrift--or one of the Friends,
who would be obstinate and set in his ways. She's good enough at
bargaining, and she has a great tobacco plantation at Annapolis, and is
as smart as any man. And she can beat half of them at piquet and ombre
and win their money, too."

"What is piquet?"

"Oh, Lord, child! I've always heard that little pitchers had big ears,
and many a rill runs to the sea. Don't you carry things, now, nor ask
questions. Little girls have no call to know such things. What were we
talking about when I made that slip? Oh, about those girls. They'll be
trained in fine manners. The English ladies go to court and see the King
and the Queen and the princesses, and have gay doings."

"Have we any court?"

"Oh, dear, no! England governs us. But there's a good deal of
talk--there, child, get some sewing--hemstitching or something--and
don't talk so much."

She was silent quite a while. Then she said gravely: "I think I liked
the other girls better than I do Anabella. Is she my real cousin? She
said so yesterday. And once, just before I came here, Andrew said I had
no cousin but him."

"That's true enough. Andrew is a real cousin, your father's brother's
son. And your mother had no brothers or sisters. But it's a fashion to
say cousin. It sounds more respectful. Mistress Morris is a great one to
scrape relationship with high-up folks."

Primrose suddenly wondered if anybody missed her at the farm. The little
chickens must have grown into quite large ones, and all the other things
she cared for so much. There was a sudden homesickness. She would like
to see them. But--yes, she _would_ rather be here. There were so many
things to learn. She didn't see any sense in the Latin, and she was sure
it didn't make the French any easier. But the spinet----

"Patty," she ventured timidly, "do you not think I ought to go at my
notes? I didn't play them very well yesterday, and the mistress rapped
me over the knuckles."

She spread her small hand out on her knee and inspected it.

"Yes. Dear me! you'll never get that kerchief done. But, then, run
along. There's no one downstairs. They are all invited to Mistress
Pean's to take tea, and pick everybody