Clinton said he found these lines in a newspaper about the time he began to drive alone, and he stuck them up upon the stall that he might not forget them.
"Hallo, who is this?" inquired Oscar, as a little curly-haired girl of six years came tripping into the barn.
The little girl to whom the inquiry was addressed turned a shy and roguish look towards the strange boy, and then edged along to Clinton, and nestled her little hand in his.
"Can't you tell him who you are?" inquired Clinton. "He came all the way from Boston, where cousin Ettie and cousin Willie live. He 's Jerry's cousin, and little Mary Preston's cousin. Now you'll tell him what your name is, won't you?"
"Annie Davenport—that's my name," she replied, in her artless, winning way.
"Then you're Clinton's sister, are you?" inquired Oscar.
"Yes, and he 's my brother," she quickly added, with a proud look that greatly amused the boys.
"Did you say you have a cousin Willie in Boston, Clinton?" continued Oscar.
"Yes, Willie Davenport," replied Clinton.
"I know him—he's about your size, is n't he? and his father is a lawyer?"