is one thing I wish you would promise,” the little girl went on, “and that is, that you will always have hot cakes on Saturday mornings so I can have butter and syrup both.”
“I promise,” replied her mother smiling.
“I know Louis is mighty glad not to be going back,” Edna continued, “and I’m rather glad he isn’t myself, for this year I shall have Celia.”
“I thought you were fond of Louis.”
“I am pretty fond of him, but I’d rather have girls about all the time than boys all the time. Girls fuss with you, of course. They get mad and won’t speak, but I’d liefer they’d do that than try to boss you the way boys do. Mother, there is another thing I wish you would do, and that is I wish you would tell Aunt Elizabeth that she will please let Dorothy come to play with me sometimes. Dorothy is my particular friend, you know, and Aunt Elizabeth will never allow me to have her visit me unless you say she can.”
“Did she never allow you to have company last winter?”
Edna shook her head and a sigh escaped her.
“I will arrange that Dorothy shall come,” said her mother quite firmly.
“It’s going to be much nicer than last year,” remarked Edna in a satisfied tone, “for I shall always have Celia to go to, and you will be so near, too, and besides I like Uncle Justus much better than I did at first.”
“Of the two I should think you would have more fear of Uncle Justus than of Aunt Elizabeth,” said her mother looking down at her.
“I did at first, but I found it was mostly on account of his eyebrows; they are so shaggy.”
Mrs. Conway smiled. “I have heard it said that he can be rather terrible,” she remarked.
“Oh, well, so he can, but he isn’t all the time and Aunt Elizabeth is.”
“I hope this year you will find out that it is only Aunt Elizabeth’s eyebrows, too.”
“It couldn’t be, for she hasn’t any to speak of,” returned Edna. As she talked she was carefully packing the little trunk in which Ada’s clothes were kept. It was a tiny trunk, only about six inches long. Aunt Elizabeth had made it, herself, by covering a box with leather and strapping the leather across with strips of wood glued on. Edna liked the trunk much better than a larger one which had been bought at the store. Aunt Elizabeth was very clever in making things of this kind and would sometimes surprise her little niece with some home-made gift which was the more prized because it was unusual. The child remembered this now and began to feel that she had not shown herself very grateful in speaking as she had done a moment before. “Mother,” she said. “I didn’t mean that Aunt Elizabeth was frightful all the time. She is very kind when she gives me things like this trunk.”
“You don’t mean frightful,” replied Mrs. Conway laughing, “you mean she is rather formidable.”
But that was too much of a word for Edna, though she did not say so. Having stowed away Ada’s belongings, three frocks, two petticoats, a red hood and sacque, a blue dressing-gown and apron, she shut the lid. “I don’t think I’ll take her furs this week because she’ll not need them,” she remarked, “and I don’t think I will take any of my other dolls because I will be so glad to see them next Friday. Mother, if you come into town any time during the week will you come out to see us?”
“If I have time I certainly shall.”
Edna gave a sigh of content. It was surely going to be much better than last year. “Mother,” she said, changing the subject, “do you think Cousin Ben is silly?”
“He can be rather silly but he can also be very sensible. He is silly only when he wants to tease or when he wants to amuse a little girl I know.”
“I like his silly better than some of the big girls’s sillies. They giggle so much and aren’t funny at all. I think he is very funny. He says such queer things about the trees and plants in the woods. He twists their names around so they mean something else. Like the dog-wood, bark, you know. Mother, what is hazing?”
“It is the kind of thing the college boys do to those in a lower class; they play tricks on them which sometimes are really very cruel.”
“Do you mean they really hurt them?”
“Sometimes they hurt them very much. I knew of one young man who was forced into a pond of water on an icy day in the fall, and who nearly died of pneumonia in consequence of the cold he took from having to be in his wet clothes so long.”
“Do you think they will do anything like that to Cousin Ben?”
“I certainly hope not, though no doubt there will be some tricks played on him as he is a Freshman.”
Edna knew what a Freshman was but the matter of hazing was quite new to her and troubled her very much. Cousin Ben had gone out alone to the woods. Perhaps this very moment someone was lying in wait for him.
Hastily setting away the doll and trunk she ran downstairs, put on her coat and hat and started up the road toward the woods nearest. She had no exact plan in her mind, but she knew Cousin Ben had probably gone to see one of his classmates who lived just beyond this piece of woods. The college was on the outskirts of the city and the dormitories were within easy walking distance, so that one was liable to see a group of college boys at almost any time. Edna trotted along hoping to overtake her cousin. She did not believe anyone would attack him unless he were alone, and she meant to keep him company on his return walk. Just as she reached the edge of the woods she came upon a group of Sophomores standing a short distance away and she heard one say. “We’ll nab him as he comes out, boys.”
Who could they mean but Cousin Ben? She walked slowly that she might, if possible, hear more.
“You’re sure he came this way?” she heard another say.
“Sure,” was the reply. “We saw him go in Abercrombie’s gate.”
That settled it in Edna’s mind, for it was Will Abercrombie whose house Cousin Ben most frequented. She hesitated a moment, wondering what path her cousin would take, and then she remembered that the short cut was through the woods; it was much longer by the road. It was already getting rather late and it looked grim and gloomy in the woods, but there was nothing to do but face any danger and go straight ahead. She was crafty enough not to turn in at once for fear the boys might suspect, so she kept on a short distance to where the road turned and then she cut into the bit of forest scrambling up the bank and scratching her hands, with the brambles, but reaching the path in a few minutes. The further she went the darker it grew. The sun was setting and she could see long fingers of light between the trees. She wished she had some one with her, that Cousin Ben would appear before she went much further, but there was no sign of him and she plodded on, the dead leaves rustling about her feet or falling from overhead, giving her little starts of fear. It seemed a long, long way, and she almost wished she had not undertaken the work of rescue, but at last she saw, dimly ahead of her, a figure approaching and heard a cheerful whistling which she recognized as her cousin’s. And she darted forward to meet him.
CHAPTER II
Cousin Ben striding along did not at first see the little girl, but at her calling “Cousin Ben, Cousin Ben,” he stopped short.
“Why, you little monkey, what are you doing here?” he said. “The
