“Aunt Plenty says I’m not strong enough for much exercise. I drive out with her sometimes, but I don’t care for it.”

“I’m not surprised at that,” said Uncle Alec, half to himself, adding, in his quick way: “Who have you had to play with?”

“No one but Ariadne Blish, and she was such a goose I couldn’t bear her. The boys came yesterday, and seemed rather nice; but, of course, I couldn’t play with them.”

“Why not?”

“I’m too old to play with boys.”

“Not a bit of it; that’s just what you need, for you’ve been molly-coddled too much. They are good lads, and you’ll be mixed up with them more or less for years to come, so you may as well be friends and playmates at once. I will look you up some girls also, if I can find a sensible one who is not spoilt by her nonsensical education.”

“Phebe is sensible, I’m sure, and I like her, though I only saw her yesterday,” cried Rose, waking up suddenly.

“And who is Phebe, if you please?”

Rose eagerly told all she knew, and Uncle Alec listened, with an odd smile lurking about his mouth, though his eyes were quite sober as he watched the face before him.

“I’m glad to see that you are not aristocratic in your tastes, but I don’t quite make out why you like this young lady from the poor-house.”

“You may laugh at me, but I do. I can’t tell why, only she seems so happy and busy, and sings so beautifully, and is strong enough to scrub and sweep, and hasn’t any troubles to plague her,” said Rose, making a funny jumble of reasons in her efforts to explain.

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, I was telling her about mine, and asked if she had any, and she said, ‘No, only I’d like to go to school, and I mean to some day.”

“So she doesn’t call desertion, poverty, and hard work, troubles? She’s a brave little girl, and I shall be proud to know her.” And Uncle Alec gave an approving nod, that made Rose wish she had been the one to earn it.

“But what are these troubles of yours, child?” he asked, after a minute of silence.

“Please don’t ask me, uncle.”

“Can’t you tell them to me as well as to Phebe?”

Something in his tone made Rose feel that it would be better to speak out and be done with it, so she answered, with sudden colour and averted eyes—

“The greatest one was losing dear papa.”

As she said that, Uncle Alec’s arm came gently round her, and he drew her to him, saying, in the voice so like papa’s—

“That is a trouble which I cannot cure, my child; but I shall try to make you feel it less. What else, dear?”