In the midst of an anxious controversy one evening, when Mrs. Dering had just arrived home, and was lying exhausted on the lounge; Olive came in from the store and brought a letter with the Boston post mark; it proved to be from Mr. Dering's cousin, a wealthy widow, with an only son whose health was failing, and for whom the doctor prescribed a summer's rest, and relief from study. She had once visited the Dering home, and said she knew of no one, to whom she would so willingly trust her boy, in his delicate health, as to Robert's wife. The price named for his board was lavishly liberal, and filled the long felt want, for it would more than admit of mother's being free and at home to rest, and regain her own health and strength. So this was what Kat, viewing matters from a personal standpoint, thought was "horrible," and what Kittie tried to reconcile her to by reviewing the good things that would result from it. Bea was to room with Olive, and the sunny front room was fixed for the coming invalid, and it is a pity that all the knick-knacks arranged by the girls could not have retained all the curious conjectures uttered in their hearing, as to what the coming cousin was apt to be like, and repeated them to that same person. He came one evening, a tall pale youth, with very black eyes, quiet gentlemanly manners, and a faint suspicion of a mustache, and Kat instantly declared that she didn't like him. "I told you he'd be solemn, and look like a preacher. I bet he's got consumption too, and I suppose he'll call me Kathleen and ask me if I'm prepared to die?" she exclaimed, after they had met him and he had gone to his room. "I think he's very polite and nice," said Bea. "He looks very intelligent," added Olive, with a pleasing idea in her mind, of having some one with whom she could discuss her books, and study Latin. "Some fun in him I know," laughed Kittie. "And what nice manners he has, and black eyes, I wonder if he appreciates them?" "Poor fellow, just hear him cough," exclaimed Bea in sympathy. "Girls, what have you nice for supper?" "Slap-jacks," answered Kat grimly. "I hope he'll enjoy them." "O Kat, you surely have something else besides cakes," cried Bea in dismay. "It'll never do, he's used to everything nice." "Suppose he is, we're not, and he mustn't expect it here." "Dear me," explained Bea, starting for the kitchen; but Kittie interrupted her, with the consoling remark: "It's all right, I made a nice pudding with sugar sauce, and there is cold meat and hot biscuit, that's enough, mama said so." "I bet you he'll sit and mope in his room, and cry for his mama, dear little boy, I'll give him a sugar horn," laughed Kat, then caught her breath suddenly, and flushed scarlet, for there in the door stood the new cousin, also rather flushed, but with his eyes twinkling, and his arms full of things.