Phebe laughed with her as she said encouragingly,

“Everyone calls it so, and it’s a real good name, for all the Mrs. Campbells live handy by, and keep coming up to see the old ladies.”

“I could stand the aunts, but there are dozens of cousins, dreadful boys all of them, and I detest boys! Some of them came to see me last Wednesday, but I was lying down, and when auntie came to call me I went under the quilt and pretended to be asleep. I shall have to see them some time, but I do dread it so.” And Rose gave a shudder, for, having lived alone with her invalid father, she knew nothing of boys, and considered them a species of wild animal.

“Oh! I guess you’ll like ’em. I’ve seen ’em flying round when they come over from the Point, sometimes in their boats and sometimes on horseback. If you like boats and horses, you’ll enjoy yourself first-rate.”

“But I don’t! I’m afraid of horses, and boats make me ill, and I hate boys!” And poor Rose wrung her hands at the awful prospect before her. One of these horrors alone she could have borne, but all together were too much for her, and she began to think of a speedy return to the detested school.

Phebe laughed at her woe till the beans danced in the pan, but tried to comfort her by suggesting a means of relief.

“Perhaps your uncle will take you away where there ain’t any boys. Debby says he is a real kind man, and always bring heaps of nice things when he comes.”

“Yes, but you see that is another trouble, for I don’t know Uncle Alec at all. He hardly ever came to see us, though he sent me pretty things very often. Now I belong to him, and shall have to mind him, till I am eighteen. I may not like him a bit, and I fret about it all the time.”

“Well, I wouldn’t borrow trouble, but have a real good time. I’m sure I should think I was in clover if I had folks and money, and nothing to do but enjoy myself,” began Phebe, but got no further, for a sudden rush and tumble outside made them both jump.

“It’s thunder,” said Phebe.

“It’s a circus!” cried Rose, who from her elevated perch had caught glimpses of a gay cart of some sort and several ponies with flying manes and tails.

The sound died away, and the girls were about to continue their confidences when old Debby appeared, looking rather cross and sleepy after her nap.

“You are wanted in the parlor, Miss Rose.”

“Has anybody come?”

“Little girls shouldn’t ask questions, but do as they are bid,” was all Debby would answer.

“I do hope it isn’t Aunt Myra; she always scares me out of my wits asking how my cough is, and groaning over me as if I was going to die,” said Rose, preparing
to retire the way she came, for the slide, being cut for the admission of bouncing Christmas turkeys and puddings, was plenty large enough for a slender girl.

“Guess you’ll wish it was Aunt Myra when you see who has come. Don’t never let me catch you coming into my kitchen that way again, or I’ll shut you up in the big b’iler,” growled Debby, who thought it her duty to snub children on all occasions.