the shebang had been successfully taken down every slope but the steepest. Its name suggested its unusual fashion of reaching the foot of the hill. I tried it but once, on the mildest grade; but its wriggling career proved too much for my nerves, and I landed in an ignominious heap half-way down the slope. When Clara had discovered Marion's spirit of daring, one of the first things she asked was if she would take the shebang down Steep Hill, as they called this one; and take

it down Marion did. I never shall forget the sensation in my knees as I saw her gather up the steeringrope. Clara gave a tremendous push that sent the thing rattling and

wobbling down the hill, while the boys stood by and grinned. Strange to say, the trip was accomplished in safety, and with a shout of triumph Marion climbed out half-way up the next slope."

Miss Lisle paused, but Lucy exclaimed with a long breath of delighted interest: "Oh, please go on! Reminiscences are so interesting!"

"Let me see: what else came before the

Bushy Pond episode? Oh,

MARION WINS THE RACE. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)

ever dared to drop to the ground; but Marion eclipsed his performance by hanging with one arm while Clara

counted fifty before she let go of the limb. After a while the boys stopped planning to play with us,

which was not

strange, as we did

put on rather provoking airs, and sometimes I am afraid we were

almost mean. At length they

formed a society, and tried in every way to prevent our finding out the time and place of their meetings. However, one morning Clara was too quick for them, and came racing over to tell us she had made the discovery that the

famous society was holding its meeting in an empty room of the back barn.

"Five minutes after she had given the information we were stealing cautiously toward the barn. Clara had selected for our vantageground a position under a window that opened on what had once been the cow-yard. Our object was to listen until we heard something with which to tantalize the boys later on, and then to go away. With our skirts held closely about us, we succeeded in noiselessly climbing the rickety fence, and gained our place under the window, which was partly opened.

"John was addressing the meeting on some subject of a historical nature, for we heard him say something about when Gates made Burgoyne surrender, and saved New York from being invaded.' As we listened I saw Marion's lip curl. If there was one subject upon which she found it hard to keep silence, it was United States history; for she loved it dearly, and had read more in that line than most boys and girls of her age. In fact, one of the boys' grievances had been her beating them all to pieces' in a game where three minutes had been given for writing names and events in that history, beginning with each letter of the alphabet in turn. I knew that General Schuyler was one of Marion's prime favorites, and that any mention of Burgoyne's surrender without bringing in his name would make her wildly indignant; but, to my surprise, she suffered John to proceed until he shouted out something about when George Washington signed the Declaration of Independence.' Then she could stand it no longer, and turning to Clara and me, she whispered: 'Do you think you could hoist me up so I can reach the sill?' Hoist we did with all our might. With a mighty scratching and scrabbling, she went up, and the meeting was startled by her breathless, George Washington never signed the Declaration; he was too busy taking care of the army in New York; and if you are going to talk about Burgoyne's getting beaten, I think you had better say something about General Schuyler-' Just there the hoistingpower gave out, and Marion descended with a thump as one of the boys indignantly slammed down the window.

it came to the question of the fastest runner, that was what tried the boys' souls. Over and over again they would propose a race from the barn to the house; but as sure as the race was finished, Marion would be first at the goal. To beat four boys, three of whom were older than herself, was something of which I think she had a right to be proud. She used to confide to me that John's steps seemed to come nearer every time they raced; but she managed to hold her own even to the last trial that took place the morning we left for home."

Miss Emily paused again, but Lucy's interest seemed unabated, so she went on:

"I really can think of nothing else but the Bushy Pond afternoon, and I must hurry with that, or Sister Marion will be back from her letters. One morning we found the boys whittling pine shingles. Marion and I knew better than to ask for what they were intended; but as soon as Clara appeared she took in the situation. They were making boats to sail on Bushy Pond, for she had heard her eldest brother say he was going there to sketch that afternoon, and her mother never let the younger ones go to the pond without him. She proposed that we go too; and though she did not know the way, the boys could not get off without our seeing them. Cousin Clara was a famous whittler, so there was no doubt that our boats would be quite equal to any of the boys' workmanship. They were not very elaborate: flat shingles whittled to a point at one end, with a single mast at the base of the point. The sails were half-sheets of commercial notepaper, with two slits through which the mast was slipped. Clara insisted on each of us being provided with a number of these sails. After dinner we prepared to keep a sharp watch. Clara was up by the barn, Marion at the back of the house, and I on the road in front. However, Fate seemed against us; for just as the boys showed themselves in the barn door, a girl caller for Clara and Clara's cousins' appeared. There was nothing to be done but to go to the house. As we reached the porch the boys and their boats disappeared behind the barn.

"I have always felt that our cordiality to

have been; for after a very short stay she announced that she had promised to be at home early. I hope she did not see any connection between her remark and my asking if she knew the way to Bushy Pond. Imagine our delight when she told us that it was near to the road on which she lived, and that she would show us the way if we would walk along with her! We accepted the invitation, and if I live to be one hundred I shall never forget those boys' faces when we appeared; but they were having too fine a time to stay long provoked. They even volunteered to cut for us the long branches that were used to poke our boats and to hook them in when they floated too far from shore. The object of each was to conduct his or her boat entirely around the pond without wetting the sail. It was no easy task, for a too vigorous poke from the guiding branch was sure to overturn the boat, and that meant a return to the starting-point and a fresh sail. We were getting along finely. My boat had been around twice, Clara and Marion had each finished their first successful voyage, when we were all suddenly startled by a prolonged 'Moo-o-o!' We looked up, and saw several cows gazing down in surprise on their usually quiet drinking-place.

"I had always imagined that Marion had no especial liking for cows, but neither my uncle's family nor ours kept any, and as we children seldom went out of the fields belonging to the two places, I had never seen my sister brought face to face with them. When I turned to look at her, I found she had gone over by Cousin Fred. Carl called out that her boat was floating out of reach, then turned to see why she did not answer. There was no mistaking the expression of Marion's face, and he shouted, 'Marion 's 'fraid of the cows! 'Fore I'd be

scared at a mooly — !'

That was almost more than Marion could stand, and she started back toward the pond; but the sight of three more pairs of horns sent her back to Cousin Fred, where she waited till one of the creatures, having finished drinking, turned in her direction. I saw her say something to Cousin Fred; but he only kept on sketching, and called out for one of the boys to drive the cow away, as Marion wanted to climb

up in the willow-tree. The boys looked amazed, and Ned asked, 'What does she want to roost there for?' but John, after one glance at Marion's white cheeks, dashed forward, held out his hand to help Marion down the bank, then walked beside her to the willow-tree, and before we could say Jack Robinson her blue sailor hat stuck out from the topmost branches. At length the cows departed, and we did likewise. The boys teased Marion unmercifully all the way home, but she stood it nobly. That night, when we had gone up to our room, she confided to me that she deserved every bit of the teasing, and that she did n't know what she would have done if she and Clara and I had been at the pond alone. Then she suddenly asked me if it would be wrong if she should let John win the next race. I was too surprised to answer, so with the proudest look I had ever seen she proceeded to tell me that when John left us at his gate, that afternoon, he had told her that he did n't see why she need be so scared, that he guessed she could run faster than any cow she would ever meet. Before I had time to say a word she finished my surprise by declaring that she would rather one boy had said that about her running than to have it said by Clara and me and all the girls she had ever known, put together. However, we agreed that John was hardly the sort of boy to put up with a giveaway victory, so the result was, as I told you, that Marion held her own in the running line to the end of our visit."

66

Well, those fellows must have had a queer set of legs!" was the exclamation from the doorway as Miss Lisle finished her story. There stood Dean, with the book in his hand, showing suspiciously few pages turned over.

"I always knew," he proceeded, "that Cousin Marion must have been a fine kind of a youngster; but I would n't give much for a fellow of fourteen who could n't beat a girl of twelve."

"What's up for discussion now?" asked a deep, jolly voice, and Cousin Jack appeared at the open porch door and came forward to where Dean was standing.

"Nothing, sir. Miss Emily was telling about Cousin Marion's beating some boys running

Oh, you would n't, would n't you?" and Cousin Jack gave a comical, questioning glance

"LUCE, ARE YOU AFRAID OF COWS?' ASKED DEAN SUDDENLY."

at Miss Lisle, who answered by a merry shake of her head. Whereupon Mr. Maxwell taking Dean by the shoulders, swung him round so that he faced a cabinet on the top shelf of which were displayed various cups and medals. Then he said impressively:

"Well, one of those despised pairs of legs belonged to me and won those cups and medals

What are you going to do about it?" Dean looked dumfounded, and Lucy gave a sudden bounce in her seat, exclaiming, "Miss Emily! Then that John' in the story was really our 'Cousin Jack'!" Miss Lisle smiled assent, but Dean was the next to speak:

"All I can say, sir, is that

you must have gone into the running business pretty lively since, if you could be beaten by a girl at fourteen."

"So I did; but let me tell you that it was no joke even to keep at that same girl's heels. It was owing to that experience that I made up my mind to be a good runner at any cost. I have often told Cousin Marion that all the prizes I ever received were really due to her."

"Not all, Cousin Jack," Lucy hastened "because in a

to say;

book of yours that Cousin Marion lent me the other day, was written that it was a prize for the best examination in United States history." Mr. Maxwell shook his head with a mock-melancholy air.

"She was at the bottom of that one, too,

Lucy; for her history was as bad rather, as good-as her running; and my old master may be wondering yet what started me up into such a shining historical light that winter after the Lisles were in Oldport. He little knew that my chief motive was that I would not be beaten by that clever little bundle of petticoats!" finished Cousin Jack as his wife came into the room.

All that evening Dean was unusually silent. Somehow he felt rather turned upside down in some of his notions. The silence lasted until