Cousins -- Juvenile fiction; Family life -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Juvenile fiction
“As you say, it's all right to tell you, but don't let the boys know
I blabbed, or Prince will take my head off. You see, Archie don't like
some of the fellows Charlie goes with, and cuts 'em. That makes Prince
mad, and he holds on just to plague Arch, so they don't speak to one
another, if they can help it, and that's the row.”
“Are those boys bad?” asked Rose, anxiously.
“Guess not, only rather wild. They are older than our fellows, but
they like Prince, he's such a jolly boy; sings so well, dances jigs and
breakdowns, you know, and plays any game that's going. He beat Morse at
billiards, and that's something to brag of, for Morse thinks he knows
everything. I saw the match, and it was great fun!”
Steve got quite excited over the prowess of Charlie, whom he admired
immensely, and tried to imitate. Rose did not know half the danger
of such gifts and tastes as Charlie's, but felt instinctively that
something must be wrong if Archie disapproved.
“If Prince likes any billiard-playing boy better than Archie, I don't
think much of his sense,” she said severely.
“Of course he doesn't; but, you see, Charlie and Arch are both as proud
as they can be, and won't give in. I suppose Arch is right, but I don't
blame Charlie a bit for liking to be with the others sometimes, they are
such a jolly set,” and Steve shook his head morally, even while his eye
twinkled over the memory of some of the exploits of the “jolly set.”
“Oh, dear me!” sighed Rose, “I don't see what I can do about it, but
I wish the boys would make up, for Prince can't come to any harm with
Archie, he's so good and sensible.”
“That's the trouble; Arch preaches, and Prince won't stand it. He
told Arch he was a prig and a parson, and Arch told him he wasn't a
gentleman. My boots! weren't they both mad, though! I thought for a
minute they'd pitch into one another and have it out. Wish they had, and
not gone stalking round stiff and glum ever since. Mac and I settle our
rows with a bat or so over the head, and then we are all right.”
Rose couldn't help laughing as Steve sparred away at a fat sofa-pillow,
to illustrate his meaning; and, having given it several scientific
whacks, he pulled down his cuffs and smiled upon her with benign pity
for her feminine ignorance of this summary way of settling a quarrel.
“What droll things boys are!” she said, with a mixture of admiration and
perplexity in her face, which Steve accepted as a compliment to his sex.
“We're a pretty clever invention, miss, and you can't get on without
us,” he answered, with his nose in the air. Then, taking a sudden plunge
into business, he added, “How about that bit of money you were going to
lend me? I've told, now you pay up.”
“Of course I will! How much do you want?” and Rose pulled out her purse.
“Could you spare five dollars? I want to pay a little debt of honour
that is rather pressing,” and Steve put on a mannish air that was
comical to see.
“Aren't all debts honourable?” asked innocent Rose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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