“I hope he will not bother him,” she added; “I know who he is now. He was at Whittingtonia for a little while, but broke down. There’s no remembering all the curates there. My aunt likes his mother. Does he belong to this St. Andrew’s Church?” “No, to the old one. You begin to see the tower.” “Is that where you go?” “To the old one in the morning, but we have a dear little old chapel at Clipstone, where Mr. Brownlow comes for the afternoon. It is all a good deal mixed up together.” Then another voice-- “Do you think Mr. Underwood would preach to us? Mr. Brownlow says he never heard any one like him.” Anna stood still. “Nobody is to dare to mention preaching to Uncle Clement for the next six months, or they will deserve never to hear another sermon in their lives.” “What an awful penalty!” “For shame, Dolores! Now,” as the short remainder of a steep street was surmounted, “here, as you may see, is the great hotel, and next beyond is Aunt Jane’s, Beechcroft. On beyond, where you see that queer tower, is Cliff House, Mr. White’s, who married our Aunt Adeline, only they are in Italy; and then comes Carrara, Captain Henderson’s--” “You are expected to rave about Mrs. Henderson’s beauty,” said the cousin, Dolores Mohun, as she opened Miss Mohun’s gate, between two copper beeches, while Anna listened to the merry tongues, almost bewildered by the chatter, so unlike the seclusion and silent watching of the last month; but when Mysie Merrifield asked, “Is it not quite overwhelming?” she said-- “Oh no! it is like being among them all at Vale Leston. My sisters always tell me my tongue wants greasing when I come down.” Her tongue was to have exercise enough among the bevy of damsels who surrounded her in Miss Mohun’s drawing-room--four Merrifields, ranging from twenty-two to twelve years old, and one cousin, Dolores Mohun, with a father in New Zealand. “Won’t you be in the Mouse-trap?” presently asked number three, by name Valetta. “If I did not know that she would drag it in!” cried Dolores. “What may it be?” asked Anna. “An essay society and not an essay society,” was the lucid answer. “Gillian said you would be sure to belong to it.” “I am afraid I can’t if it takes much time,” said Anna in a pleading tone. “My uncle is very far from well, and I have a good deal to do in the way of reading to him, and my little brother is coming to go to school with yours.” “Mr. Underwood brought his little boy,” said Gillian. “Fergus said he was one of the jolliest little chaps he had ever seen.” “Uncle Reginald quite lost his heart to him,” said Mysie, “and Aunt Jane says he is a charming little fellow.” “Oh, Felix Underwood!” said Anna. “Adrian is much more manly. You should see him ride and climb trees.” The comparative value of brothers and cousins was very apparent. However, it was fixed that Anna should attend the Mouse-trap, and hear and contribute as she could find time. “I did the Erl King,” said Valetta.