I have sometimes thought it was the fault of what mother said about the visitor that made what did happen happen, but I am almost sure really that it was the fault of us, though I did not see it at the time, and even now I'm sure we didn't mean to be unkind. Quite the opposite. But the events of life are very confusing, especially when you try to think what made you do them, and whether you really meant to be naughty or not. Quite often it is not--but it turns out just the same. When the cab had carried mother away--Hilda said it was like a dragon carrying away a queen--we said, 'How do you do' to our Cousin Sidney, who replied, 'Quite well, thank you.' And then, curiously enough, no one could think of anything more to say. Then Rupert--which is me--remembered that about being a visitor, and he said: 'Won't you come into the drawing-room?' He did when he had taken off his gloves and overcoat. There was a fire in the drawing-room, because we had been going to have games there with mother, only the telegram came about Aunt Ellie. So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought of nothing to say harder than ever. Hilda did say, 'How old are you?' but, of course, we knew the answer to that. It was ten. And Hugh said, 'Do you like England or India best?' And our cousin replied, 'India ever so much, thank you.' I never felt such a duffer. It was awful. With all the millions of interesting things that there are to say at other times, and I couldn't think of one. At last I said, 'Do you like games?' [Illustration: So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought of nothing to say harder than ever.] And our cousin replied, 'Some games I do,' in a tone that made me sure that the games he liked wouldn't be our kind, but some wild Indian sort that we didn't know. I could see that the others were feeling just like me, and I knew we could not go on like this till tea-time. And yet I didn't see any other way to go on in. It was Hilda who cut the Gorgeous knot at last. She said: 'Hugh, let you and I go and make a lovely surprise for Rupert and Sidney.' And before I could think of any way of stopping them without being downright rude to our new cousin, they had fled the scene, just like any old conspirators. Rupert--me, I mean--was left alone with the stranger. I said: 'Is there anything you'd like to do?' And he said, 'No, thank you.' Then neither of us said anything for a bit--and I could hear the others shrieking with laughter in the hall. I said, 'I wonder what the surprise will be like.' He said, 'Yes, I wonder'; but I could tell from his tone that he did not wonder a bit. The others were yelling with laughter. Have you ever noticed how very amused people always are when you're not there? If you're in bed--ill, or in disgrace, or anything--it always sounds like far finer jokes than ever occur when you are not out of things. 'Do you like reading?' said I--who am Rupert--in the tones of despair.