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.