We Ten | Page 3

she doesn't care a jot. And yet, isn't it queer! with all her primness and fine airs, of us all, Nora cares most for Phil, and he's so untidy and rough; she almost runs her legs off waiting on him, and half the time he doesn't even say thank you!
The next after Nora is Betty, our "long-legged tomboy," as Felix calls her, 'cause she is so tall and so full of mischief. Just to look at her you'd think she was as mild as a lamb; but in reality she's wilder than all of us boys put together. I've seen her slide down the banisters of three flights of stairs, one flight after the other, balancing papa's breakfast tray on one palm; and for warwhoops and the ability to make the most hideous faces, she goes ahead of anything I've ever heard or seen. She is as bad as Phil for playing jokes, and when she gets in one of her wild moods, the only way Miss Marston can manage her is to threaten to take her to papa's study; that brings her to terms every time. For that matter, we none of us like to go there, though I'm sure papa never scolds, as some people's fathers do,--I almost wish he would sometimes; he just looks at us; but, all the same, we don't like to go to the study.
I hope you won't think from what I've said that Betty is a disagreeable girl, for she isn't at all; I'm really very fond of her, and we're together a great deal, because I am the next in age to her. She's awfully quick-tempered, and flies into a rage for almost nothing; but she's very honest, and she'll own up to a fault like a soldier. Once in a while we have a falling out, but not often, 'cause I won't quarrel. Nannie says that I give in sometimes when I oughtn't to,--she means when it isn't right to; I guess that's my fault, but I do hate to squabble with any one,--it's such a bother. I don't know what to tell you about myself, except that I'm not very bright at my books, though I love to read stories. It does seem so strange that we shouldn't all be smart, when papa, as everybody knows, is such a wonderfully clever man. I'm Jack, or, rather,--to give my full name,--John Minot Rose. I think that's rather a nice name, but you can't think what fun the whole family make of it; they call me "a Jack rose," and "Jacqueminot," and "Rosebud," and a "sweet-scented flower," and all sorts of absurd names. Of course it's very silly of them. Betty gets furious over it; but I don't really care, so what's the use of being angry.
Kathie comes next to me; she is a nice little girl, only she does love to tattle things, and that makes trouble sometimes. She's very gentle, and just as pretty as a picture, with her long light curls and pretty, big blue eyes; but my! isn't she obstinate! She doesn't fly into rages, like Betty, but she keeps persisting and persisting till she carries her point, and when she once starts in crying, you may make up your mind she isn't going to stop in a hurry. But she doesn't mean to be naughty, I'm sure; and she's the most polite child, and so willing to do things for people!
Then come the other twins, Paul and M?del. Paul is a standing joke with us, he's so solemn; and yet he says such bright, funny things, in his slow way, that we have to laugh: we call him the "Judge." M?del is a little darling, just as jolly and round and sweet as she can be; nurse says she's going to be a second Nannie. We all make a great deal of her,--much more than we do of Alan; for though he's the baby, he's so independent that he doesn't like to be petted.
So now you know all about the Roses; it does seem as if I'd been a long time telling about them, but you see there are such a lot of us.
Well, to go back to the council. Fee was awfully cut up over his disappointment, and cranky too; but nobody minded what he said, until, all at once, Nora got in a tantrum, and declared he was "acting very mean to Phil," that he needn't always expect to have things his own way, and that papa was perfectly right to give Phil the first chance. That set Fee off, and in about two minutes we were all mixed up in the fuss,--taking "sides," you know; that is, all but Phil,--he just sat hunched up on the arm of the old sofa, swinging one of