Rose scrambled into the china-closet as rapidly as possible, and there refreshed herself by making faces at Debby, while she settled her plumage and screwed up her courage. Then she crept softly down the hall and peeped into the parlor. No one appeared, and all was so still she felt sure the company was upstairs. So she skipped boldly through the half-open folding-doors, to behold on the other side a sight that nearly took her breath away.

Seven boys stood in a row all ages, all sizes, all yellow-haired and blue-eyed, all in full Scotch costume, and all smiling, nodding, and saying as with one voice, “How are you, cousin?”

Rose gave a little gasp, and looked wildly about her as if ready to fly, for fear magnified the seven and the room seemed full of boys. Before she could run, however, the tallest lad stepped out of the line, saying pleasantly,

“Don't be frightened. This is the Clan come to welcome you; and I'm the chief, Archie, at your service.”

He held out his hand as he spoke, and Rose timidly put her own into a brown paw, which closed over the white morsel and held it as the chief continued his introductions.

“We came in full rig, for we always turn out in style on grand occasions. Hope you like it. Now I'll tell you who these chaps are, and then we shall be all right. This big one is Prince Charlie, Aunt Clara's boy. She has but one, so he is an extra good one. This old fellow is Mac, the bookworm, called Worm for short. This sweet creature is Steve the Dandy. Look at his gloves and top-knot, if you please. They are Aunt Jane's lads, and a precious pair you'd better believe. These are the Brats, my brothers, Geordie and Will, and Jamie the Baby. Now, my men, step out and show your manners.”

At this command, to Rose's great dismay, six more hands were offered, and it was evident that she was expected to shake them all. It was a trying moment to the bashful child; but, remembering that they were her kinsmen come to welcome her, she tried her best to return the greeting cordially.

This impressive ceremony being over, the Clan broke ranks, and both rooms instantly appeared to be pervaded with boys. Rose hastily retired to the shelter of a big chair and sat there watching the invaders and wondering when her aunt would come and rescue her.

As if bound to do their duty manfully, yet rather oppressed by it, each lad paused beside her chair in his wanderings, made a brief remark, received a still briefer answer, and then sheered off with a relieved expression.

Archie came first, and, leaning over the chair-back, observed in a paternal tone,

“I'm glad you've come, cousin, and I hope you'll find the Aunt-hill pretty jolly.”

“I think I shall.”

Mac shook his hair out of his eyes, stumbled over a stool, and asked abruptly,

“Did you bring any books with you?”

“Four boxes full. They are in the library.”

Mac vanished from the room, and Steve, striking an attitude which displayed his costume effectively, said with an affable smile,

“We were sorry not to see you last Wednesday. I hope your cold is better.”

“Yes, thank you.” And a smile began to dimple about Rose's mouth, as she remembered her retreat under the bed-cover.

Feeling that he had been received with distinguished marks of attention, Steve strolled away with his topknot higher than ever, and Prince Charlie pranced across the room, saying in a free and easy tone,

“Mamma sent her love and hopes you will be well enough to come over for a day next week. It must be desperately dull here for a little thing like you.”

“I'm thirteen and a half, though I do look small,” cried Rose, forgetting her shyness in indignation at this insult to her newly acquired teens.

“Beg pardon, ma'am; never should have guessed it.” And Charlie went off with a laugh, glad to have struck a spark out of his meek cousin.

Geordie and Will came together, two sturdy eleven and twelve year olders, and, fixing their round blue eyes on Rose, fired off a question apiece, as if it was a shooting match and she the target.

“Did you bring your monkey?”

“No; he is dead.”

“Are you going to have a boat?”

“I hope not.”

Here the two, with a right-about-face movement, abruptly marched away, and little Jamie demanded with childish frankness,

“Did you bring me anything nice?”

“Yes, lots of candy,” answered Rose, whereupon Jamie ascended into her lap with a sounding kiss and the announcement that he liked her very much.

This proceeding rather startled Rose, for the other lads looked and laughed, and in her confusion she said hastily to the young usurper,

“Did you see the circus go by?”

“When? Where?” cried all the boys in great excitement at once.

“Just before you came. At least I thought it was a circus, for I saw a red and black sort of cart and ever so many little ponies, and—”

She got no farther, for a general shout made her pause suddenly, as Archie explained the joke by saying in the middle of his laugh,

“It was our new dog-cart and the Shetland ponies. You'll never hear the last of your circus, cousin.”

“But there were so many, and they went so fast, and the cart was so very red,” began Rose, trying to explain her mistake.

“Come and see them all!” cried the Prince. And before she knew what was happening, she was borne away to the barn and tumultuously introduced to three shaggy ponies and the gay new dog-cart.

She had never visited these regions before, and had her doubts as to the propriety of her being there now, but when she suggested that “Auntie might not like it,” there was a general cry of,

“She told us to amuse you, and we can do it ever so much better out here than poking round in the house.”

“I'm afraid I shall get cold without my sacque,” began Rose, who wanted to stay, but felt rather out of her element.

“No, you won't! We'll fix you,” cried the lads, as one clapped his cap on her head, another tied a rough jacket round her neck by the sleeves, a third neatly smothered her in a carriage blanket, and a fourth threw open the door of the old barouche that stood there, saying with a flourish,

“Step in, ma'am, and make yourself comfortable while we show you some fun.”

So Rose sat in state enjoying herself very much, for the lads proceeded to dance a Highland Fling with a spirit and skill that made her clap her hands and laugh as she had not done for weeks.

“How is that, my lassie?” asked the Prince, coming up all flushed and breathless when the ballet was over.

“It was splendid! I never went to the theatre but once, and the dancing was not half so pretty as this. What clever boys you must be!” said Rose, smiling upon her kinsmen like a little queen upon her subjects.

“Ah, we're a fine lot, and that is only the beginning of our larks. We haven't got the pipes here or we'd,

answered Charlie, looking much elated at her praise.

“I did not know we were Scotch; papa never said anything about it, or seemed to care about Scotland, except to have me sing the old ballads,” said Rose, beginning to feel as if she had left America behind her somewhere.

“Neither did we till lately. We've been reading Scott's novels, and all of a sudden we remembered that our grandfather was a Scotchman. So we hunted up the old stories, got a bagpipe, put on our plaids, and went in, heart and soul, for the glory of the Clan. We've been at it some time now, and it's great fun. Our people like it, and I think we are a pretty canny set.”

Archie said this from the other coach-step, where he had perched, while the rest climbed up before and behind to join in the chat as they rested.

“I'm Fitzjames and he's Roderick Dhu, and we'll give you the broadsword combat some day. It's a great thing, you'd better believe,” added the Prince.

“Yes, and you should hear Steve play the pipes. He makes 'em skirl like a good one,” cried Will from the box, eager to air the accomplishments of his race.

“Mac's the fellow to hunt up the old stories and tell us how to dress right, and pick out rousing bits for us to speak and sing,” put in Geordie, saying a good word for the absent Worm.

“And what do you and Will do?” asked Rose of Jamie, who sat beside her as if bound to keep her in sight till the promised gift had been handed over.

“Oh, I'm the little foot-page, and do errands, and Will and Geordie are the troops when we march, and the stags when we hunt, and the traitors when we want to cut any heads off.”

“They are very obliging, I'm sure,” said Rose, whereat the “utility men” beamed with modest pride and resolved to enact Wallace and Montrose as soon as possible for their cousin's special benefit.

“Let's have a game of tag,” cried the Prince, swinging himself up to a beam with a sounding slap on Stevie's shoulder.

Regardless of his gloves, Dandy tore after him, and the rest swarmed in every direction as if bent on breaking their necks and dislocating their joints as rapidly as possible.

It was a new and astonishing spectacle to Rose, fresh from a prim boarding-school, and she watched the active lads with breathless interest, thinking their antics far superior to those of Mops, the dear departed monkey.

Will had just covered himself with glory by pitching off a high loft head first and coming up all right, when Phebe appeared with a cloak, hood, and rubbers, also a message from Aunt Plenty that “Miss Rose was to come in directly.”

“All right; we'll bring her!” answered Archie, issuing some mysterious order, which was so promptly obeyed that, before Rose could get out of the carriage, the boys had caught hold of the pole and rattled her out of the barn, round the oval and up to the front door with a cheer that brought two caps to an upper window, and caused Debby to cry aloud from the back porch,

“Them harum-scarum boys will certainly be the death of that delicate little creter!”

But the “delicate little creter” seemed all the better for her trip, and ran up the steps looking rosy, gay, and dishevelled, to be received with lamentation by Aunt Plenty, who begged her to go and lie down at once.

“Oh, please don't! We have come to tea with our cousin, and we'll be as good as gold if you'll let us stay, auntie,” clamoured the boys, who not only approved of “our cousin” but had no mind to lose their tea, for Aunt Plenty's name but feebly expressed her bountiful nature.

“Well, dears, you can; only be quiet, and let Rose go and take her iron and be made tidy, and then we will see what we can find for supper,” said the old lady as she trotted away, followed by a volley of directions for the approaching feast.

“Marmalade for me, auntie.”

“Plenty of plum-cake, please.”

“Tell Debby to trot out the baked pears.”

“I'm your man for lemon-pie, ma'am.”

“Do have fritters; Rose will like 'em.”

“She'd rather have tarts, I know.”

When Rose came down, fifteen minutes later, with every curl smoothed and her most beruffled apron on, she found the boys loafing about the long hall, and paused on the half-way landing to take an observation, for till now she had not really examined her new-found cousins.

There was a strong family resemblance among them, though some of the yellow heads were darker than others, some of the cheeks brown instead of rosy, and the ages varied all the way from sixteen-year-old Archie to Jamie, who was ten years younger. None of them were especially comely but the Prince, yet all were hearty, happy-looking lads, and Rose decided that boys were not as dreadful as she had expected to find them.

They were all so characteristically employed that she could not help smiling as she looked. Archie and Charlie, evidently great cronies, were pacing up and down, shoulder to shoulder, whistling “Bonnie Dundee”; Mac was reading in a corner, with his book close to his near-sighted eyes; Dandy was arranging his hair before the oval glass in the hat-stand; Geordie and Will investigating the internal economy of the moon-faced clock; and Jamie lay kicking up his heels on the mat at the foot of the stairs, bent on demanding his sweeties the instant Rose appeared.

She guessed his intention, and forestalled his demand by dropping a handful of sugar-plums down upon him.

At his cry of rapture the other lads looked up and smiled involuntarily, for the little kinswoman standing there above was a winsome sight with her shy, soft eyes, bright hair, and laughing face. The black frock reminded them of her loss, and filled the boyish hearts with a kindly desire to be good to “our cousin,” who had no longer any home but this.

“There she is, as fine as you please,” cried Steve, kissing his hand to her.

“Come on, Missy; tea is ready,” added the Prince encouragingly.

“I shall take her in.” And Archie offered his arm with great dignity, an honour that made Rose turn as red as a cherry and long to run upstairs again.

It was a merry supper, and the two elder boys added much to the fun by tormenting the rest with dark hints of some interesting event which was about to occur. Something uncommonly fine, they declared it was, but enveloped in the deepest mystery for the present.

“Did I ever see it?” asked Jamie.

“Not to remember it; but Mac and Steve have, and liked it immensely,” answered Archie, thereby causing the two mentioned to neglect Debby's delectable fritters for several minutes, while they cudgelled their brains.

“Who will have it first?” asked Will, with his mouth full of marmalade.

“Aunt Plenty, I guess.”

“When will she have it?” demanded Geordie, bouncing in his seat with impatience.

“Sometime on Monday.”

“Heart alive! what is the boy talking about?” cried the old lady from behind the tall urn, which left little to be seen but the topmost bow of her cap.

“Doesn't auntie know?” asked a chorus of voices.

“No; and that's the best of the joke, for she is desperately fond of it.”

“What colour is it?” asked Rose, joining in the fun.

“Blue and brown.”

“Is it good to eat?” asked Jamie.

“Some people think so, but I shouldn't like to try it,” answered Charlie, laughing so he split his tea.

“Who does it belong to?” put in Steve.

Archie and the Prince stared at one another rather blankly for a minute, then Archie answered with a twinkle of the eye that made Charlie explode again,

“To Grandfather Campbell.”

This was a poser, and they gave up the puzzle, though Jamie confided to Rose that he did not think he could live till Monday without knowing what this remarkable thing was.

Soon after tea the Clan departed, singing “All the blue bonnets are over the border,” at the tops of their voices.

“Well, dear, how do you like your cousins?” asked Aunt Plenty, as the last pony frisked round the corner and the din died away.

“Pretty well, ma'am; but I like Phebe better.” An answer which caused Aunt Plenty to hold up her hands in despair and trot away to tell sister Peace that she never should understand that child, and it was a mercy Alec was coming soon to take the responsibility off their hands.

Fatigued by the unusual exertions of the afternoon, Rose curled herself up in the sofa corner to rest and think about the great mystery, little guessing that she was to know it first of all.

Right in the middle of her meditations she fell asleep and dreamed she was at home again in her own little bed. She seemed to wake and see her father bending over her; to hear him say, “My little Rose”; to answer, “Yes, papa”; and then to feel him take her in his arms and kiss her tenderly. So sweet, so real was the dream, that she started up with a cry of joy to find herself in the arms of a brown, bearded man, who held her close, and whispered in a voice so like her father's that she clung to him involuntarily,

“This is my little girl, and I am Uncle Alec.”