"Oh, Alan, do be sensible if you can," said Jean. "We know all that stuff. What we want is to hear about these cousins of yours that are coming." "How did you know anything about them?" asked the boy, in surprise. "Miss Bean is here," answered Polly. "She went to see your mother on the way, and heard about it." "Oh." There was a world of disgust in Alan's tone. Presently he went on,-- "Well, everybody will have to hear of it now. I came over to tell you, Poll, but it seems that old woman is in ahead." "Are they really coming, then?" asked Polly anxiously. "Hope not," said Alan, rolling over on his face and pulling up a handful of grass; "girls enough round already." "That's not polite," returned Polly; "but go on." "There isn't any on," said Alan. "All there is about it is that they want to come, and I'm afraid mother is going to let them. Molly likes it, but I don't want them round in the way. I know they'll be prim and fussy, without any fun in them. I believe I'll come over here and live." "Come on," said Polly hospitably; then she proceeded in a moral tone, "But, Alan, you ought not to talk so about them, for they're your cousins, and you ought to like your relations, you know." "Do you like Aunt Jane?" inquired Alan, suddenly rolling over to face her once more. But Polly was spared the necessity of making any reply, by a sudden voice behind her. "And so this is your garden, Mrs. Adams! It's a likely place for petunias and sweet williams, but I don't think much of those new- fangled things," pointing to a brilliant bed of dwarf nasturtiums near by. Then she went on in a sing-song tone,-- "'So I've come out to view the land Where I must shortly lie.'" "Needn't think I expect to lie in your garden, though," she hastily added, evidently fearful of being misunderstood. "Hush, Alan! you must not laugh at her," said Polly, stifling her own merriment as best she could. But Miss Bean, absorbed in her eloquence, had passed on out of hearing, and Jean returned to the charge. "Come, Alan, there's a dear boy," she began persuasively, "tell us about the girls." "I don't know much about them," answered Alan. "Katharine is the older one, about fifteen, and Jessie is just my age. Her birthday is the third and mine the seventh. I suppose they're well enough, but their pictures look a little toploftical, and I'm not over fond of that kind. They are going to bring their pony, if they come, and that will be fun, if mother will only let me ride him." "You'll get your neck broken," predicted Polly. "Do you remember the day we tried to ride Job, and he lay down and rolled us off?" "That was your fault," returned Alan; "if you hadn't gripped his mane so, he'd have been all right. Well," he added, sitting up and stretching himself, "mother sent me to the market, and I s'pose I must go, but I thought I'd just stop in a minute."