It was a pretty sight to see the rosy-faced little maid sitting between the two old ladies, listening dutifully to their instructions, and cheering the lessons with her lively chatter and blithe laugh. If the kitchen had proved attractive to Dr. Alec when Rose was there at work, the sewing-room was quite irresistible, and he made himself so agreeable that no one had the heart to drive him away, especially when he read aloud or spun yarns.

“There! I’ve made you a new set of warm night-gowns with four button-holes in each. See if they are not neatly done,” said Rose, one day, some weeks after the new lessons began.

“Even to a thread, and nice little bars across the end so I can’t tear them when I twitch the buttons out. Most superior work, ma’am, and I’m deeply grateful; so much so, that I’ll sew on these buttons myself, and save those tired fingers from another prick.”

“You sew them on?” cried Rose, with her eyes wide open in amazement.

“Wait a bit till I get my sewing tackle, and then you shall see what I can do.”

“Can he, really?” asked Rose of Aunt Peace, as Uncle Alec marched off with a comical air of importance.

“Oh, yes, I taught him years ago, before he went to sea; and I suppose he has had to do things for himself, more or less, ever since; so he has kept his hand in.”

He evidently had, for he was soon back with a funny little work-bag, out of which he produced a thimble without a top; and, having threaded his needle, he proceeded to sew on the buttons so handily that Rose was much impressed and amused.

“I wonder if there is anything in the world that you cannot do,” she said, in a tone of respectful admiration.

“There are one or two things that I am not up to yet,” he answered, with a laugh in the corner of his eye, as he waxed his thread with a flourish.

“I should like to know what?”

“Bread and button-holes, ma’am.”