“How Phebe would like this! I wonder uncle did not have her come.”

“I believe he tried to, but Dolly was as cross as two sticks, and said she couldn’t spare her. I’m sorry, for we all like the Phebe bird, and she’d chirp like a good one out here, wouldn’t she?”

“She ought to have a holiday like the rest of us. It’s too bad to leave her out.”

This thought came back to Rose several times that evening, for Phebe would have added much to the little concert they had in the moonlight, would have enjoyed the stories told, been quick at guessing the conundrums, and laughed with all her heart at the fun. The merry going to bed would have been the best of all, for Rose wanted someone to cuddle under the blue blanket with her, there to whisper and giggle and tell secrets, as girls delight to do.

Long after the rest were asleep, Rose lay wide awake, excited by the novelty of all about her, and a thought that had come into her mind. Far away she heard a city clock strike twelve; a large star like a mild eye peeped in at the opening of the tent, and the soft plash of the waves seemed calling her to come out. Aunt Jessie lay fast asleep, with Jamie rolled up like a kitten at her feet, and neither stirred as Rose in her wrapper crept out to see how the world looked at midnight.

She found it very lovely, and sat down on a cracker keg to enjoy it with a heart full of the innocent sentiment of her years. Fortunately, Dr. Alec saw her before she had time to catch cold, for coming out to tie back the door-flap of his tent for more air, he beheld the small figure perched in the moonlight. Having no fear of ghosts, he quietly approached, and, seeing that she was wide awake, said, with a hand on her shining hair—

“What is my girl doing here?”

“Having a good time,” answered Rose, not at all startled.

“I wonder what she was thinking about with such a sober look.”

“The story you told of the brave sailor who gave up his place on the raft to the woman, and the last drop of water to the poor baby. People who make sacrifices are very much loved and admired, aren’t they?” she asked, earnestly.

“If the sacrifice is a true one. But many of the bravest never are known, and get no praise. That does not lessen their beauty, though perhaps it makes them harder, for we all like sympathy,” and Dr. Alec sighed a patient sort of sigh.

“I suppose you have made a great many? Would you mind telling me one of them?” asked Rose, arrested by the sigh.

“My last was to give up smoking,” was the very unromantic answer to her pensive question.

“Why did you?”

“Bad example for the boys.”

“That was very good of you, uncle! Was it hard?”

“I’m ashamed to say it was. But as a wise old fellow once said, ‘It is necessary to do right; it is not necessary to be happy.’ ”

Rose pondered over the saying as if it pleased her, and then said, with a clear, bright look—

“A real sacrifice is giving up something you want or enjoy very much, isn’t it?”