she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring precipitately down to avoid a fall. “It made a capital conclusion, however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen,” as four or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush--“Well, gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een.” “With sair fingers, you mean,” said Fred; “these bushes scratch like half a dozen wild cats.” “It is in too good a cause for me to pity you,” said Beatrice. “Nor would I accept it if you would,” said Fred. His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would or not,--“How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let me see, I have my penknife.” “Stuff!” was Fred’s gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey. “But why did you not put on your gloves?” proceeded Henrietta. “Gloves, nonsense!” said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand. “He will take up the gauntlet presently,” said Beatrice. “By the by, Alex, how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?” “O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield,” said Alex. “Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them,” said Carey, “but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl’s things; I tell her then she can’t be driven.” Fred could not bear to hear of Carey’s driving, a thing which he had not yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, “You have not told the news yet.” “What news?” “The Euphrosyne is coming home,” cried the boys with one voice. “Had we not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any day!” “That is something like news,” said Queen Bee; “I thought it would only be that the puppies could see, or that Tom’s tooth was through. Grandpapa has not heard it?” “Papa is going up to tell him,” said John. “I was going too, only Alex bagged me to carry his holly-bush.” “And so the great Rogero is coming home!” said Beatrice. “How you will learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially if he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, Careys and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred’s great love of dancing.” “I love dancing?” exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and contempt. “Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was proposed? I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for the first quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!” “If it comes at all you must start me, Bee,” said Alex, “for I am sure I can’t dance with any one but you.” “Let me request it now,” said Fred, “though why you should think I like dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it endurable.”