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pain. Suddenly she woke up with a start, and seeing Aunt Plenty
bending over her, put out her arms like a sick child, saying wearily,—
"Please, could I go to bed?"
"The best place for you, deary. Take her right up, Alec; I've got
the hot water ready, and after a nice bath, she shall have a cup of
my sage tea, and be rolled up in blankets to sleep off her cold,"
answered the old lady, cheerily, as she bustled away to give orders.
"Are you in pain, darling?" asked Uncle Alec, as he carried her up.
"My side aches when I breathe, and I feel stiff and queer; but it
isn't bad, so don't be troubled, uncle," whispered Rose, with a little
hot hand against his cheek.
But the poor Doctor did look troubled, and had cause to do so, for
just then Rose tried to laugh at Dolly charging into the room with a
warming-pan, but could not, for the sharp pain that took her breath
away, and made her cry out.
"Pleurisy," sighed Aunt Plenty, from the depths of the bath-tub.
"Pewmonia!" groaned Dolly, burrowing among the bedclothes
with the long-handled pan, as if bent on fishing up that treacherous
disease.
"Oh, is it bad?" asked Phebe, nearly dropping a pail of hot water
in her dismay, for she knew nothing of sickness, and Dolly's
suggestion had a peculiarly dreadful sound to her.
"Hush!" ordered the Doctor, in a tone that silenced all further
predictions, and made every one work with a will.
"Make her as comfortable as you can, and when she is in her little
bed I'll come and say good-night," he added, when the bath was
ready and the blankets browning nicely before the fire.
Then he went away to talk quite cheerfully to Aunt Peace about
its being "only a chill;" after which he tramped up and down the hall,
pulling his beard and knitting his brows, sure signs of great inward
perturbation.
"I thought it would be too good luck to get through the year
without a downfall. Confound my perversity! why couldn't I take
Myra's advice and keep Rose at home? It's not fair that the poor
child should suffer for my sinful over-confidence. She shall not suffer
for it! Pneumonia, indeed! I defy it!" and he shook his fist in the ugly
face of an Indian idol that happened to be before him, as if that
particularly hideous god had some spite against his own little
goddess.
In spite of his defiance his heart sunk when he saw Rose again,
for the pain was worse, and the bath and blankets, the warming-pan
and piping-hot sage tea, were all in vain. For several hours there
was no rest for the poor child, and all manner of gloomy forebodings
haunted the minds of those who hovered about her with faces full of
the tenderest anxiety.
In the midst of the worst paroxysm Charlie came to leave a
message from his mother, and was met by Phebe coming
despondently downstairs with a mustard plaster that had brought no
relief.
"What the dickens is the matter? You look as dismal as a
tombstone," he said, as she held up her hand to stop his lively
whistling.
"Miss Rose is dreadful sick."
"The deuce she is!"
"Don't swear, Mr. Charlie; she really is, and it's Mr. Mac's fault,"
and Phebe told the sad tale in a few sharp words, for she felt at war
with the entire race of boys at that moment.
"I'll give it to him, make your mind easy about that," said Charlie,
with an ominous doubling up of his fist. "But Rose isn't dangerously
ill, is she?" he added anxiously, as Aunt Plenty was seen to trot
across the upper hall, shaking a bottle violently as she went.
"Oh, but she is, though. The Doctor don't say much, but he don't
call it a 'chill' any more. It's 'pleurisy' now, and I'm so afraid it will be
pewmonia to-morrow," answered Phebe, with a despairing glance at
the plaster.
Charlie exploded into a stifled laugh at the new pronunciation of
pneumonia, to Phebe's great indignation.
"How can you have the heart to do it, and she in such horrid
pain? Hark to that, and then laugh if you darst," she said with a
tragic gesture, and her black eyes full of fire.
Charlie listened and heard little moans that went to his heart and
made his face as sober as Phebe's. "O uncle, please stop the pain
and let me rest a minute! Don't tell the boys I wasn't brave. I try to
bear it, but it's so sharp I can't help crying."
Neither could Charlie, when he heard the broken voice say that;
but, boy-like, he wouldn't own it, and said pettishly, as he rubbed his
sleeve across his eyes,—
"Don't hold that confounded thing right under my nose; the
mustard makes my eyes smart."
"Don't see how it can, when it hasn't any more strength in it than
meal. The Doctor said so, and I'm going to get some better," began
Phebe, not a bit ashamed of the great tears that were bedewing the
condemned plaster.
"I'll go!" and Charlie was off like a shot, glad of an excuse to get
out of sight for a few minutes.
When he came back all inconvenient emotion had been disposed
of, and, having delivered a box of the hottest mustard procurable for
money, he departed to "blow up" Mac, that being his next duty in his
opinion. He did it so energetically and thoroughly, that the poor
Worm was cast into the depths of remorseful despair, and went to
bed that evening feeling that he was an outcast from among men,
and bore the mark of Cain upon his brow.
Thanks to the skill of the Doctor, and the devotion of his helpers,
Rose grew easier about midnight, and all hoped that the worst was
over. Phebe was making tea by the study fire, for the Doctor had
forgotten to eat and drink since Rose was ill, and Aunt Plenty
insisted on his having a "good, cordial dish of tea" after his
exertions. A tap on the window startled Phebe, and, looking up, she
saw a face peering in. She was not afraid, for a second look showed
her that it was neither ghost nor burglar, but Mac, looking pale and
wild in the wintry moonlight.
"Come and let a fellow in," he said in a low tone, and when he
stood in the hall he clutched Phebe's arm, whispering gruffly, "How
is Rose?"
"Thanks be to goodness, she's better," answered Phebe, with a
smile that was like broad sunshine to the poor lad's anxious heart.
"And she will be all right again to-morrow?"
"Oh, dear, no. Dolly says she's sure to have rheumatic fever, if she
don't have noo-monia!" answered Phebe, careful to pronounce the
word rightly this time.
Down went Mac's face, and remorse began to gnaw at him again
as he gave a great sigh and said doubtfully,—
"I suppose I couldn't see her?"
"Of course not at this time of night, when we want her to go to
sleep!"
Mac opened his mouth to say something more, when a sneeze
came upon him unawares, and a loud "Ah rash hoo!" awoke the
echoes of the quiet house.
 "Why didn't you stop it?" said Phebe reproachfully. "I dare say
you've waked her up."
"Didn't know it was coming. Just my luck!" groaned Mac, turning
to go before his unfortunate presence did more harm.
But a voice from the stair-head called softly, "Mac, come up; Rose
wants to see you."
Up he went, and found his uncle waiting for him.
"What brings you here, at this hour, my boy?" asked the Doctor in
a whisper.
"Charlie said it was all my fault, and if she died I'd killed her. I
couldn't sleep, so I came to see how she was, and no one knows it
but Steve," he said with such a troubled face and voice that the
Doctor had not the heart to blame him.
Before he could say any thing more a feeble voice called "Mac!"
and with a hasty "Stay a minute just to please her, and then slip
away, for I want her to sleep," the Doctor led him into the room.
The face on the pillow looked very pale and childish, and the
smile that welcomed Mac was very faint, for Rose was spent with
pain, yet could not rest till she had said a word of comfort to her
cousin.
"I knew your funny sneeze, and I guessed that you came to see
how I did, though it is very late. Don't be worried. I'm better now,
and it is my fault I was ill, not yours; for I needn't have been so silly
as to wait in the cold just because I said I would."
Mac hastened to explain, to load himself with reproaches, and to
beg her not to die on any account, for Charlie's lecture had made a
deep impression on the poor boy's mind.
"I didn't know there was any danger of my dying," and Rose
looked up at him with a solemn expression in her great eyes.
 "Oh, I hope not; but people do sometimes go suddenly, you
know, and I couldn't rest till I'd asked you to forgive me," faltered
Mac, thinking that Rose looked very like an angel already, with the
golden hair loose on the pillow, and the meekness of suffering on
her little white face.
"I don't think I shall die; uncle won't let me; but if I do,
remember I forgave you."
She looked at him with a tender light in her eyes, and, seeing
how pathetic his dumb grief was, she added softly, drawing his head
down: "I wouldn't kiss you under the mistletoe, but I will now, for I
want you to be sure I do forgive and love you just the same."
That quite upset poor Mac; he could only murmur his thanks and
get out of the room as fast as possible, to grope his way to the
couch at the far end of the hall, and lie there till he fell asleep, worn
out with trying not to "make a baby" of himself.
 CHAPTER XXII.
SOMETHING TO DO.

W HATEVER danger there might have been from the effects of

that sudden chill, it was soon over, though of course Aunt
Myra refused to believe it, and Dr. Alec cherished his girl with
redoubled vigilance and tenderness for months afterward. Rose quite
enjoyed being sick, because as soon as the pain ended the fun
began, and for a week or two she led the life of a little princess
secluded in the Bower, while every one served, amused, and
watched over her in the most delightful manner. But the Doctor was
called away to see an old friend who was dangerously ill, and then
Rose felt like a young bird deprived of its mother's sheltering wing;
especially on one afternoon when the aunts were taking their naps,
and the house was very still within while snow fell softly without.
"I'll go and hunt up Phebe, she is always nice and busy, and likes
to have me help her. If Dolly is out of the way we can make
caramels and surprise the boys when they come," Rose said to
herself, as she threw down her book and felt ready for society of
some sort.
She took the precaution to peep through the slide before she
entered the kitchen, for Dolly allowed no messing when she was
round. But the coast was clear, and no one but Phebe appeared,
sitting at the table with her head on her arms apparently asleep.
Rose was just about to wake her with a "Boo!" when she lifted her
head, dried her wet eyes with her blue apron, and fell to work with a
resolute face on something she was evidently much interested in.
Rose could not make out what it was, and her curiosity was greatly
excited, for Phebe was writing with a sputtering pen on some bits of
brown paper, apparently copying something from a little book.
 "I must know what the dear thing is about, and why she cried,
and then set her lips tight and went to work with all her might,"
thought Rose, forgetting all about the caramels, and, going round to
the door, she entered the kitchen, saying pleasantly,—
"Phebe, I want something to do. Can't you let me help you about
any thing? or shall I be in the way?"
"Oh, dear, no, miss; I always love to have you round when things
are tidy. What would you like to do?" answered Phebe, opening a
drawer as if about to sweep her own affairs out of sight: but Rose
stopped her, exclaiming, like a curious child,—
"Let me see! What is it? I won't tell if you'd rather not have Dolly
know."
"I'm only trying to study a bit; but I'm so stupid I don't get on
much," answered the girl reluctantly, permitting her little mistress to
examine the poor contrivances she was trying to work with.
A broken slate that had blown off the roof, an inch or two of
pencil, an old almanac for a reader, several bits of brown or yellow
paper ironed smoothly and sewed together for a copy-book, and the
copies sundry receipts written in Aunt Plenty's neat hand. These,
with a small bottle of ink and a rusty pen, made up Phebe's outfit,
and it was little wonder that she did not "get on" in spite of the
patient persistence that dried the desponding tears and drove along
the sputtering pen with a will.
"You may laugh if you want to, Miss Rose, I know my things are
queer, and that's why I hide 'em; but I don't mind since you've found
me out, and I ain't a bit ashamed except of being so backward at my
age," said Phebe humbly, though her cheeks grew redder as she
washed out some crooked capitals with a tear or two not yet dried
upon the slate.
"Laugh at you! I feel more like crying to think what a selfish girl I
am, to have loads of books and things and never remember to give
you some. Why didn't you come and ask me, and not go struggling
along alone in this way? It was very wrong of you, Phebe, and I'll
never forgive you if you do so again," answered Rose, with one hand
on Phebe's shoulder while the other gently turned the leaves of the
poor little copy-book.
"I didn't like to ask for any thing more when you are so good to
me all the time, miss, dear," began Phebe, looking up with grateful
eyes.
"O you proud thing! just as if it wasn't fun to give away, and I had
the best of it. Now, see here, I've got a plan and you mustn't say no,
or I shall scold. I want something to do, and I'm going to teach you
all I know; it won't take long," and Rose laughed as she put her arm
around Phebe's neck, and patted the smooth dark head with the
kind little hand that so loved to give.
"It would be just heavenly!" and Phebe's face shone at the mere
idea; but fell again as she added wistfully, "Only I'm afraid I ought
not to let you do it, Miss Rose. It will take time, and maybe the
Doctor wouldn't like it."
"He didn't want me to study much, but he never said a word
about teaching, and I don't believe he will mind a bit. Any way, we
can try it till he comes, so pack up your things and go right to my
room and we'll begin this very day; I'd truly like to do it, and we'll
have nice times, see if we don't!" cried Rose eagerly.
It was a pretty sight to see Phebe bundle her humble outfit into
her apron, and spring up as if the desire of her heart had suddenly
been made a happy fact to her; it was a still prettier sight to see
Rose run gayly on before, smiling like a good fairy as she beckoned
to the other, singing as she went,—
"The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And many are the curious things I'll show you
when you're there.
Will you, will you walk in, Phebe dear?"
 "Oh, won't I!" answered Phebe fervently, adding, as they entered
the Bower, "You are the dearest spider that ever was, and I'm the
happiest fly."
"I'm going to be very strict, so sit down in that chair and don't
say a word till school is ready to open," ordered Rose, delighted with
the prospect of such a useful and pleasant "something to do."
So Phebe sat demurely in her place while her new teacher laid
forth books and slates, a pretty inkstand and a little globe; hastily
tore a bit off her big sponge, sharpened pencils with more energy
than skill, and when all was ready gave a prance of satisfaction that
set the pupil laughing.
"Now the school is open, and I shall hear you read, so that I may
know in which class to put you, Miss Moore," began Rose with great
dignity, as she laid a book before her scholar, and sat down in the
easy chair with a long rule in her hand.
Phebe did pretty well, only tripping now and then over a hard
word, and pronouncing identical "identickle," in a sober way that
tickled Rose, though never a smile betrayed her. The spelling lesson
which followed was rather discouraging; Phebe's ideas of geography
were very vague, and grammar was nowhere, though the pupil
protested that she tried so hard to "talk nice like educated folks" that
Dolly called her "a stuck-up piece who didn't know her place."
"Dolly's an old goose, so don't you mind her, for she will say
'nater,' 'vittles,' and 'doos' as long as she lives, and insist that they
are right. You do talk very nicely, Phebe, I've observed it, and
grammar will help you, and show why some things are right and
others ain't,—are not, I mean," added Rose, correcting herself, and
feeling that she must mind her own parts of speech if she was to
serve as an example for Phebe.
When the arithmetic came the little teacher was surprised to find
her scholar quicker in some things than herself, for Phebe had
worked away at the columns in the butcher's and baker's books till
she could add so quickly and correctly that Rose was amazed, and
felt that in this branch the pupil would soon excel the teacher if she
kept on at the same pace. Her praise cheered Phebe immensely, and
they went bravely on, both getting so interested that time flew
unheeded till Aunt Plenty appeared, exclaiming, as she stared at the
two heads bent over one slate,—
"Bless my heart, what is going on now?"
"School, aunty. I'm teaching Phebe, and it's great fun!" cried
Rose, looking up with a bright face.
But Phebe's was brighter, though she added, with a wistful look,—
"Maybe I ought to have asked leave first; only when Miss Rose
proposed this, I was so happy I forgot to. Shall I stop, ma'am?"
"Of course not, child; I'm glad to see you fond of your book, and
to find Rose helping you along. My blessed mother used to sit at
work with her maids about her, teaching them many a useful thing in
the good old fashion that's gone by now. Only don't neglect your
work, dear, or let the books interfere with the duties."
As Aunt Plenty spoke, with her kind old face beaming approvingly
upon the girls, Phebe glanced at the clock, saw that it pointed to
five, knew that Dolly would soon be down, expecting to find
preparations for supper under way, and, hastily dropping her pencil,
she jumped up, saying,—
"Please, can I go? I'll clear up after I've done my chores."
"School is dismissed," answered Rose, and with a grateful "Thank
you, heaps and heaps!" Phebe ran away singing the multiplication
table as she set the tea ditto.
That was the way it began, and for a week the class of one went
on with great pleasure and profit to all concerned; for the pupil
proved a bright one, and came to her lessons as to a feast, while the
young teacher did her best to be worthy the high opinion held of
her, for Phebe firmly believed that Miss Rose knew every thing in the
way of learning.
Of course the lads found out what was going on, and chaffed the
girls about the "Seminary," as they called the new enterprise; but
they thought it a good thing on the whole, kindly offered to give
lessons in Greek and Latin gratis, and decided among themselves
that "Rose was a little trump to give the Phebe-bird such a capital
boost."
Rose herself had some doubts as to how it would strike her uncle,
and concocted a wheedlesome speech which should at once
convince him that it was the most useful, wholesome, and delightful
plan ever devised. But she got no chance to deliver her address, for
Dr. Alec came upon her so unexpectedly that it went out of her head
entirely. She was sitting on the floor in the library, poring over a big
book laid open in her lap, and knew nothing of the long-desired
arrival till two large, warm hands met under her chin and gently
turned her head back, so that some one could kiss her heartily on
either cheek, while a fatherly voice said, half reproachfully, "Why is
my girl brooding over a dusty Encyclopedia when she ought to be
running to meet the old gentleman who couldn't set on another
minute without her?"
"O uncle! I'm so glad! and so sorry! Why didn't you let us know
what time you'd be here, or call out the minute you came? Haven't I
been homesick for you? and now I'm so happy to have you back I
could hug your dear old curly head off," cried Rose, as the
Encyclopedia went down with a bang, and she up with a spring that
carried her into Dr. Alec's arms, to be kept there in the sort of
embrace a man gives to the dearest creature the world holds for
him.
Presently he was in his easy chair with Rose upon his knee
smiling up in his face and talking as fast as her tongue could go,
while he watched her with an expression of supreme content, as he
stroked the smooth round cheek, or held the little hand in his,
rejoicing to see how rosy was the one, how plump and strong the
other.
"Have you had a good time? Did you save the poor lady? Aren't
you glad to be home again with your girl to torment you?"
"Yes, to all those questions. Now tell me what you've been at,
little sinner? Aunty Plen says you want to consult me about some
new and remarkable project which you have dared to start in my
absence."
"She didn't tell you, I hope?"
"Not a word more except that you were rather doubtful how I'd
take it, and so wanted to 'fess' yourself and get round me as you
always try to do, though you don't often succeed. Now, then, own
up and take the consequences."
So Rose told about her school in her pretty, earnest way, dwelling
on Phebe's hunger for knowledge, and the delight it was to help her,
adding, with a wise nod,—
"And it helps me too, uncle, for she is so quick and eager I have
to do my best or she will get ahead of me in some things. To-day,
now, she had the word 'cotton' in a lesson and asked all about it,
and I was ashamed to find I really knew so little that I could only
say that it was a plant that grew down South in a kind of a pod, and
was made into cloth. That's what I was reading up when you came,
and to-morrow I shall tell her all about it, and indigo too. So you see
it teaches me also, and is as good as a general review of what I've
learned, in a pleasanter way than going over it alone."
"You artful little baggage! that's the way you expect to get round
me, is it? That's not studying, I suppose?"
"No, sir, it's teaching; and please, I like it much better than having
a good time all by myself. Besides, you know, I adopted Phebe and
promised to be a sister to her, so I am bound to keep my word, am I
not?" answered Rose, looking both anxious and resolute as she
waited for her sentence.
Dr. Alec was evidently already won, for Rose had described the
old slate and brown paper copy-book with pathetic effect, and the
excellent man had not only decided to send Phebe to school long
before the story was done, but reproached himself for forgetting his
duty to one little girl in his love for another. So when Rose tried to
look meek and failed utterly, he laughed and pinched her cheek, and
answered in that genial way which adds such warmth and grace to
any favor,—
"I haven't the slightest objection in the world. In fact, I was
beginning to think I might let you go at your books again,
moderately, since you are so well; and this is an excellent way to try
your powers. Phebe is a brave, bright lass, and shall have a fair
chance in the world, if we can give it to her, so that if she ever finds
her friends they need not be ashamed of her."
"I think she has found some already," began Rose eagerly.
"Hey? what? has any one turned up since I've been gone?" asked
Dr. Alec quickly, for it was a firm belief in the family that Phebe
would prove to be "somebody" sooner or later.
"No, her best friend turned up when you came home, uncle,"
answered Rose with an approving pat, adding gratefully, "I can't half
thank you for being so good to my girl, but she will, because I know
she is going to make a woman to be proud of, she's so strong and
true, and loving."
"Bless your dear heart, I haven't begun to do any thing yet, more
shame to me! But I'm going at it now, and as soon as she gets on a
bit, she shall go to school as long as she likes. How will that do for a
beginning?"
"It will be 'just heavenly,' as Phebe says, for it is the wish of her
life to 'get lots of schooling,' and she will be too happy when I tell
her. May I, please?—it will be so lovely to see the dear thing open
her big eyes and clap her hands at the splendid news."
"No one shall have a finger in this nice little pie; you shall do it all
yourself, only don't go too fast, or make too many castles in the air,
my dear; for time and patience must go into this pie of ours if it is to
turn out well."
"Yes, uncle, only when it is opened won't 'the birds begin to
sing?'" laughed Rose, taking a turn about the room as a vent for the
joyful emotions that made her eyes shine. All of a sudden she
stopped and asked soberly,—
"If Phebe goes to school who will do her work? I'm willing, if I
can."
"Come here and I'll tell you a secret. Dolly's 'bones' are getting so
troublesome, and her dear old temper so bad, that the aunts have
decided to pension her off and let her go and live with her daughter,
who has married very well. I saw her this week, and she'd like to
have her mother come, so in the spring we shall have a grand
change, and get a new cook and chamber-girl if any can be found to
suit our honored relatives."
"Oh, me! how can I ever get on without Phebe? Couldn't she stay,
just so I could see her? I'd pay her board rather than have her go,
I'm so fond of her."
How Dr. Alec laughed at that proposal, and how satisfied Rose
was when he explained that Phebe was still to be her maid, with no
duties except such as she could easily perform between school-
hours.
"She is a proud creature, for all her humble ways, and even from
us would not take a favor if she did not earn it somehow. So this
arrangement makes it all square and comfortable, you see, and she
will pay for the schooling by curling these goldilocks a dozen times a
day if you let her."
 "Your plans are always so wise and kind! That's why they work so
well, I suppose, and why people let you do what you like with them.
I really don't see how other girls get along without an Uncle Alec!"
answered Rose, with a sigh of pity for those who had missed so
great a blessing.
When Phebe was told the splendid news, she did not "stand on
her head with rapture," as Charlie prophesied she would, but took it
quietly, because it was such a happy thing she had no words "big
and beautiful enough to thank them in," she said; but every hour of
her day was brightened by this granted wish, and dedicated to the
service of those who gave it.
Her heart was so full of content that it overflowed in music, and
the sweet voice singing all about the house gave thanks so blithely
that no other words were needed. Her willing feet were never tired
of taking steps for those who had smoothed her way; her skilful
hands were always busy in some labor of love for them, and on the
face fast growing in comeliness there was an almost womanly
expression of devotion, which proved how well Phebe had already
learned one of life's great lessons,—gratitude.
CHAPTER XXIII.
 PEACE-MAKING.

"S TEVE, I want you to tell me something," said Rose to Dandy,

who was making faces at himself in the glass, while he
waited for an answer to the note he brought from his mother to
Aunt Plenty.
"P'raps I will, and p'raps I won't. What is it?"
"Haven't Arch and Charlie quarrelled?"
"Dare say; we fellows are always having little rows, you know. I
do believe a sty is coming on my starboard eye," and Steve affected
to be absorbed in a survey of his yellow lashes.
"No, that won't do; I want to know all about it; for I'm sure
something more serious than a 'little row' is the matter. Come,
please tell me, Stenie, there's a dear."
"Botheration! you don't want me to turn telltale, do you?" growled
Steve, pulling his top-knot, as he always did when perplexed.
"Yes, I do," was Rose's decided answer,—for she saw from his
manner that she was right, and determined to have the secret out of
him if coaxing would do it. "I don't wish you to tell things to every
one, of course, but to me you may, and you must, because I have a
right to know. You boys need somebody to look after you, and I'm
going to do it, for girls are nice peace-makers, and know how to
manage people. Uncle said so, and he is never wrong."
Steve was about to indulge in a derisive hoot at the idea of her
looking after them, but a sudden thought restrained him, and
suggested a way in which he could satisfy Rose, and better himself
at the same time.
"What will you give me if I'll tell you every bit about it?" he asked,
with a sudden red in his cheeks, and an uneasy look in his eyes, for
he was half ashamed of the proposition.
 "What do you want?" and Rose looked up rather surprised at his
question.
"I'd like to borrow some money. I shouldn't think of asking you,
only Mac never has a cent since he's set up his old chemical shop,
where he'll blow himself to bits some day, and you and uncle will
have the fun of putting him together again," and Steve tried to look
as if the idea amused him.
"I'll lend it to you with pleasure, so tell away," said Rose, bound
to get at the secret.
Evidently much relieved by the promise, Steve set his top-knot
cheerfully erect again, and briefly stated the case.
"As you say, it's all right to tell you, but don't let the boys know I
blabbed, or Prince will take my head off. You see, Archie don't like
some of the fellows Charlie goes with, and cuts 'em. That makes
Prince mad, and he holds on just to plague Arch, so they don't speak
to one another, if they can help it, and that's the row."
"Are those boys bad?" asked Rose, anxiously.
"Guess not, only rather wild. They are older than our fellows, but
they like Prince, he's such a jolly boy; sings so well, dances jigs and
breakdowns, you know, and plays any game that's going. He beat
Morse at billiards, and that's something to brag of, for Morse thinks
he knows every thing. I saw the match, and it was great fun!"
Steve got quite excited over the prowess of Charlie, whom he
admired immensely, and tried to imitate. Rose did not know half the
danger of such gifts and tastes as Charlie's, but felt instinctively that
something must be wrong if Archie disapproved.
"If Prince likes any billiard-playing boy better than Archie, I don't
think much of his sense," she said severely.
"Of course he doesn't; but, you see, Charlie and Arch are both as
proud as they can be, and won't give in. I suppose Arch is right, but
I don't blame Charlie a bit for liking to be with the others sometimes,
they are such a jolly set," and Steve shook his head morally, even
while his eye twinkled over the memory of some of the exploits of
the "jolly set."
"Oh, dear me!" sighed Rose, "I don't see what I can do about it,
but I wish the boys would make up, for Prince can't come to any
harm with Archie, he's so good and sensible."
"That's the trouble; Arch preaches, and Prince won't stand it. He
told Arch he was a prig and a parson, and Arch told him he wasn't a
gentleman. My boots! weren't they both mad though! I thought for a
minute they'd pitch into one another and have it out. Wish they had,
and not gone stalking round stiff and glum ever since. Mac and I
settle our rows with a bat or so over the head, and then we are all
right."
Rose couldn't help
laughing as Steve
sparred away at a fat
sofa-pillow, to illustrate
his meaning; and,
having given it several
scientific whacks, he
pulled down his cuffs
and smiled upon her
with benign pity for her
feminine ignorance of
this summary way of
settling a quarrel.
"What droll things
boys are!" she said,
with a mixture of
admiration and
perplexity in her face,
which Steve accepted