“Humph, it smells mighty sweet! Is it from your beau? You don’t mean to say Terry has written you?” demanded Patty sharply. Eva’s starry eyes flashed angrily at the question, and she answered, with subtle scorn: “Terry? Why, if Terry had written me this letter I’d take hold of it with the tongs and lay it on the fire.” The luckless Terry had aroused her ire on a recent visit by too free lovemaking, and had gotten in return a tingling cheek from a rough contact with a little white hand. “Don’t you ever dare kiss me again against my will, you brute!” she had stormed, rubbing her offended lips till they burned in her rage to be rid of the hated caress. Bitterly had the twins resented their brother’s repulse, cruelly had they punished her, working through Cousin Tabby, for her daring. They darted angry looks at her now, and Patty taunted sharply: “You ought to be grateful to Terry for life. He’s the only fool I ever saw that wanted to be your lover.” “I should have had dozens before now if you three jealous old maids had not kept me from the chance of knowing any young men,” retorted Eva maliciously, adding, with keen triumph: “But I have a splendid lover, in spite of all your arts.” “Bah, you are fibbing, Miss Vanity,” cried Lydia mockingly, but at the same moment she made a rush behind Eva’s chair and pinioned her arms to her side, shouting gayly to her sister: “Snatch the letter, and see who wrote it.” There was a sharp little scuffle, and Patty came off victor, seizing the letter and springing upon the kitchen table. Lydia cheered her on: “Read it aloud, while I hold her down, and we’ll soon know all about that boasted lover!” Little Eva was like wax in the grasp of her stronger cousin. She wriggled and twisted, but escape was impossible, so, at length, she drooped her head with a dejected sob, while Gran’ther Groves looked on benignly, thinking it was all just a girlish frolic between the girls. His honest mind never suspected their secret malignity toward his pet. “Why, it’s poetry! What weak rot! It makes me feel sick!” ejaculated Patty. “I want to know! But read it, anyway. I’ll listen if it makes us all sick,” put in the spinster curiously, so Patty cleared her throat and read with an air of fine disdain: “WHEN EVA LAUGHS.” “When Eva laughs the dimples play At hide-and-seek upon her cheek, Like butterflies ’mong roses gay, While twinkling, starry eyes bespeak A mirthful mind, a nature kind, A heart all true and warm and pure, And music floating down the wind No sweeter than her laughter’s lure! “When Eva laughs I seem to hear Glad echoes of the joyous spring; The lilting birds, the humming bees, The skylark on its soaring wing; The murmur of the rippling stream, The minor chords of ocean’s tone; The lover’s sigh, the maiden’s prayer, The rustling leaves, the wind’s low moan!