The Waterbury Democrat., 1946-01-16
CnAPTER XV

AAAAAA AAA& AAH
 EARtY In rebruary Cousin vlc.
 torlA wrote us that she would board Tor Che remainder uf the winter At the American House. BalMoral was getting too much for her. she would arrive. slae an- noanced, on the afternoon Of the nf1eonth. (Cousln Victoria never consulted anyone's convenience. she merely announced her own.l
 T suppose we shouldn't be thank tul for the extra fhoney," my mother said. But it does seem. What she meant was. This is the last straw"
 "she won't stay a week, if she comes," my father assured her. You know Victoria. AS likely as not, she won't turn up at all. some one ought to convince her that the Queen was steadfast," he added with a wink at the three of us.
 Cousin Victoria had. always inai- tated the Queen. From glrlhood she had studied pictures of the royal costumes, and, being an expert seamstress, copied them. Her home bore the name of the Queen's. Her dog. now buried under the lilac bush, had been called Dash. Read- ing once that the Queen had gob- bled her food, Cousin Victoria had formed the habit, too, and as a re- suit was constantly "in distress" :" Naturally she kept a Journal. which now in her seventy-third year had reached it's eighty-second volume. This was her second most valued possession. Her first was a letter, dated Nov. l6, 1898, from a Lady-in- Waiting to the Queen herself, re- plying to Cousin Victoria's cabled felicitations upon the Jubilee of 1897.
 Like the Queen, Cousin Victoria was c widow, and still Costensibly) grieving. Her husbands picture hung above the fireplace in the par Tor of Balmoral, delicately mustach- ed and whiskered. His name, dis cordantly, had been Hiram, a cir constance which Cousin Victoria had found hard to bear. She was childless. When she lamented this state, you had the feeling that her grief was less for the children she lacked than for the opportunity she had missed of presenting them with royal names.
 INSTEAD of arriving on the after | noon of the fifteenth, as she had announced, Cousin Victoria came, bag and baggage (including volumes 76-S2 of her JournaD on the morn ing of the twelfth in a hired car riage, much upset that no one had met her>at the train.
 She was a handsome womarls She possessed you had to admit it - a truly regal air. Stepping out of that carriage, her hair as black as her bonnet, her eyes bright and her body nimble, she had a good deal about her that the Queen herself might have envied.
 My father, who had told us only an hour earlier that he was going to spend a quiet morning at home, left almost immediately for his office, My mother had responsibili- ties in the kitchen. But we girls had no escape. We followed Cousin Victoria upstairs and dutifully help ed her tnpack.
 Cousin Victoria's room was next to the parlor and facing the village. It was the best room in the Amer ican House. If I put her there in the first place." my mother said, there won't be any excuse for her wanting to change" But Cousin Victoria took nothing on faith. Be- fore we could unpack a bag she had to be shown every bedroom, includ- ing our own. Then. satisfied, at least temporarily, she allowed us to help her settle.
 Tn selecting Cousin Victoria's bed room, my mother had thought of it's convenience to the parlor, where she had planned for her to sit dur ing the day with her crocheting.
 Cousin Victoria used her spare lime and surplus energy in making lace for edging. This never wore out. A pair of drawers might fall into shreds, but the lace remained as good as ever. In order that none should be wasted, my mother used it lavishly around hems, necklines, and even armholes. We girls had hardly a spot on us that had not at one time or another been scratched by it. Cousin Victoria had a very embarrassing way of lifting our skirts to see how it was wearing) Roll after roll lay un-