buttons to sew, or housekeeping cares to vex her soul.
Rose went about with Dulce like a very devoted hen with one
rather feeble chicken, for she was anxious to have this treatment
work well and tended her little patient with daily increasing
satisfaction. Dr. Alec came up to pass a few days and pronounced
the child in a most promising condition. But the grand event of the
season was the unexpected arrival of Phebe.
Two of her pupils had invited her to join them in a trip to the
mountains, and she ran away from the great hotel to surprise her
little mistress with a sight of her, so well and happy that Rose had
no anxiety left on her account.
Three delightful days they spent, roaming about together, talking
as only girls can talk after a long separation, and enjoying one
another like a pair of lovers. As if to make it quite perfect, by one
of those remarkable coincidences which sometimes occur, Archie
happened to run up for the Sunday, so Phebe had her surprise, and
Aunt Jessie and the telegraph kept their secret so well, no one ever
knew what maternal machinations brought the happy accident to
pass.
Then Rose saw a very pretty, pastoral bit of lovemaking, and long
after it was over, and Phebe gone one way, Archie another, the
echo of sweet words seemed to linger in the air, tender ghosts to
haunt the pine grove, and even the big coffeepot had a halo of
romance about it, for its burnished sides reflected the soft glances
the lovers interchanged as one filled the other’s cup at that last
breakfast.
Rose found these reminiscences more interesting than any novel
she had read, and often beguiled her long leisure by planning a
splendid future for her Phebe as she trotted about after her baby in
the lovely July weather.
On one of the most perfect days she sat under an old apple tree on
the slope behind the house where they used to play. Before her
opened the wide intervale, dotted with haymakers at their
picturesque work. On the left flowed the swift river fringed with
graceful elms in their bravest greenery; on the right rose the purple
hills serene and grand; and overhead glowed the midsummer sky,
which glorified it all.
Little Dulce, tired of play, lay fast asleep in the nest she had made
in one of the haycocks close by, and Rose leaned against the
gnarled old tree, dreaming daydreams with her work at her feet.
Happy and absorbing fancies they seemed to be, for her face was
beautifully tranquil, and she took no heed of the train which
suddenly went speeding down the valley, leaving a white cloud
behind. Its rumble concealed the sound of approaching steps, and
her eyes never turned from the distant hills till the abrupt
appearance of a very sunburned but smiling young man made her
jump up, exclaiming joyfully: “Why, Mac! Where did you drop
from??
“The top of Mount Washington. How do you do??
“Never better. Won’t you go in? You must be tired after such a
fall.?
“No, thank you. I’ve seen the old lady. She told me Aunt Jessie and
the boy had gone to town and that you were ‘settin’ round’ in the
old place. I came on at once and will take a lounge here if you
don’t mind,” answered Mac, unstrapping his knapsack and taking a
haycock as if it were a chair.
Rose subsided into her former seat, surveying her cousin with
much satisfaction as she said: “This is the third surprise I’ve had
since I came. Uncle popped in upon us first, then Phebe, and now
you. Have you had a pleasant tramp? Uncle said you were off.?
“Delightful! I feel as if I’d been in heaven, or near it, for about
three weeks, and thought I’d break the shock of coming down to
the earth by calling here on my way home.?
“You look as if heaven suited you. Brown as a berry, but so fresh
and happy I should never guess you had been scrambling down a
mountain,” said Rose, trying to discover why he looked so well in