"You're right, it _is_ a 'what'," replied Miss Judy emphatically,
"although it usually goes down in the catalog as a 'who.' It's my
cousin, Egmont Satter-white," she continued in explanation. "He's
coming to pay us a visit at camp."

"Yes," said Katherine. "What is he like?"

"Like?" repeated Miss Judy derisively. "He's like the cock who thought
the sun didn't get up until he crowed--so conceited; only he goes still
farther. He doesn't see what need there is for the sun at all while he
is there to shed his light. He's the only child of his adoring mother,
and she's cultivated him like a rare floral specimen; private tutors and
all that sort of thing. Now he's learned everything there is to know,
and he's ready to write a book. He regards his fellow creatures as
quaint and curious specimens, 'rather diverting for one to observe,
don't you know,' but not at all important. I suppose he's going to put a
chapter in his book about girls, because he wrote to father and
announced that he was going to run up for a week or so and observe us in
our native wilds--that was the delicate way he put it. He'll probably
set down everything he sees in a notebook and then go home and solemnly
write his chapter, wise as Solomon."

"What a bore!" sighed Katherine. "I hate to be stared at, and 'observed'
for somebody else's benefit."

"Monty's a pest!" Miss Judy exploded wrathfully. "I don't see why father
ever told him he could come. He's under no obligations to him--we're
only third cousins, and Monty considers us far, far beneath him at
best. But you know how father is--hospitality with a capital H. So we're
doomed to a visitation from Monty."