Cousin Tom didn't speak crossly at all, but very decidedly, and there was a pleasant twinkle in his eye that took away all idea of censure, so Patty said, amiably: "I think it will be very nice and I really don't care what we have, only you told me to suggest something, so I did." "Certainly, that's all right, but your suggestions were suicidal. Are you familiar with Bacon?" Oh, thought Patty, he's going to order the breakfast over night, and I hate bacon. "Yes," she said, "but I don't like it at all." "You don't? What a perverted taste. But Boston will soon change that. We have a Bacon club, which you shall join. It is a most delightful club, and you will like it, I'm sure. I fancy that in a few weeks I shall see you devouring Bacon with intense enjoyment." Indeed I won't, thought Patty. She was about to say that her Uncle Robert belonged to a Terrapin Club, but refrained, thinking it might be impolite to imply disparagement to the more lowly bacon. So she changed the subject, and said: "Please, Cousin Tom, tell me something of your family. It's so queer to go to see people and not know anything about them beforehand. But so far, my relatives have been very nice." "Oh, the Flemings are a wonderful family," said Cousin Tom, gaily, "we are all going to do something great, but somehow we haven't hit it off yet." "Cousin Elizabeth is an author, isn't she?" inquired Patty, a little timidly, for she had never seen a real, live author. "Yes," said Mr. Fleming, "Elizabeth is an author, that is, she writes novels when she isn't doing anything else; Barbara is a club woman, but she writes too, more or less." "And what do you do? Are you literary?" "Yes, I'm writing a book, myself. It's a treatise on The Will, and I flatter myself I have some novel theories; and then there's Ruth, you know." "Ruth, who is she?" "Oh, she's our cousin, who lives with us. Not your cousin, you know. She is father's brother's child, and her people live in the country; so, as she has a fine mind, she lives with us in order to have the advantage of a Boston education." "How old is she?" asked Patty. "Fourteen or fifteen, I think. She'll be company for you; I think you'll like her, though she is very different from you." "What is she like?" asked Patty, much interested in this new and unexpected comrade. "Why, she is quiet, and very studious, and--but you'll see her yourself, to-morrow, so I'll let you form your own opinion." After dinner they had a short promenade on deck, but the wind was so strong, that Patty was glad to return to the warm, light saloon, and they sat down on one of the red velvet sofas. Cousin Tom didn't resume his book, and Patty felt that he was politely trying to entertain her. So with a desire to entertain him in return, she asked him to tell her about the book he was writing. This seemed to please him immensely, and he eagerly launched into a description of its scope and plan.