Cousin Becky's champions

by Eleanora H. Stooke

However, that was not to be the case, for when Saturday came Roger only was asked to the Rookery, and the little girl found herself left out in the cold. She was vastly indignant, though she would not for the world have acknowledged as much; she felt she had been slighted, and, to make the matter worse, her father condoled with her on having to remain at home, whereupon Roger said carelessly:

"Oh, she doesn't mind, father! She doesn't like Edgar, so it wouldn't be much fun for her, anyway."

Polly was on the brink of tears, for though she certainly did not like her cousin, it would have been a great treat for her to have spent a few hours at the Rookery; and she much desired to see the "winter garden," as her uncle called the greenhouse where he grew hyacinths, primulas, cyclamens, heaths, and various other flowers which flourish under glass in early spring. She kept silence, however, and hoped no one noticed her disappointment, for she was successful in blinking away the tears which, against her will, had risen to her eyes.

When Roger arrived at the Rookery, he found that his aunt and uncle had gone away to spend the day; but Edgar, who had been on the look-out for him and met him at the front door, appeared to think they would have a much more enjoyable time on that account, "for now we shall be able to do exactly as we like," he said gleefully, adding that his mother had given orders that they were to have whatever they pleased for tea.

It was a lovely February day with a touch of spring in the air, for the weather, after a short spell of frost, had turned milder, so the boys spent most of the afternoon in the gardens and outbuildings connected with the house. Roger was charmed with the flowers in the winter garden and would have liked to have remained longer to admire their manifold beauties, but Edgar grew impatient and hurried him away. From thence they visited the stable, where the visitor was allowed to smooth the sleek sides of the pair of horses which he longed to be able to drive and, much to the amusement of a groom who stood by chewing a straw, he confessed his ambition to be a coachman when he should be grown-up. The idea seemed to tickle the fancy of Edgar, for he laughed immoderately.

"Why, Roger, you'd have to wear livery if you were a coachman," he reminded his cousin.

"Of course," Roger answered. "I shouldn't mind that. What are you laughing at? I love horses, and—"

"And they love you, sir," interposed the groom good-naturedly; "animals know those who like them. Look at that now!"

One of the horses had turned his head and was rubbing his nose against Roger's sleeve.

The little boy was very reluctant to leave the stable; but Edgar declared that he was hungry and wanted his tea, so they went into the house, where they found a most tempting repast awaiting them in the dining-room—a repast which, to the visitor, appeared all that any reasonable person could desire, though Edgar did a great deal of grumbling. There were two sorts of jam on the table, but the young host was satisfied with neither and rang the bell, bidding the maid-servant who answered his summons to bring another kind. Then he complained that the cake was stale, and that the bread and butter was not cut thin enough—Roger thought the cake was delicious, and the bread and butter, if anything, too thin—and at length the servant grew exasperated and told him he was a foolish boy to try to show off before his cousin, a remark which made him very angry indeed.