rush at another; poor fellow, it was his last day's sport, he
died almost as soon as it was over; he must have received a
great many bites. The place is known as the rattlesnakes' den
to this day, though there are none there now, I believe."

"My little cousin is well, I hope," said Mr. Rossitur.

"She? yes, bless her! she is always well. Where is she? Fairy,
where are you? Cynthy, just call Elfleda here."

"She's just in the thick of the muffins, Mr. Ringgan."

"Let the muffins burn! Call her."

Miss Cynthia accordingly opened a little way the door of the
passage, from which a blue stifling smoke immediately made its
way into the room, and called out to Fleda, whose little voice
was heard faintly responding from the distance.

"It's a wonder she can hear through all that smoke," remarked
Cynthia.

"She," said Mr. Ringgan, laughing; "she's playing cook or
housekeeper in yonder, getting something ready for tea. She's
a busy little spirit, if ever there was one. Ah! there she is.
Come here, Fleda — here's your cousin Rossitur from West
Point, and Mr. Carleton."

Fleda made her appearance flushed with the heat of the stove
and the excitement of turning the muffins, and the little iron