ou."

"I sha'n't come till you tell me," he persisted.

"Oh, I think you might, because if I stop to tell you she may be gone."

"Who'll be gone? You might have told it twice over in this time."

"The girl I want you to see," explained Katherine, drawing nearer in
desperation. "Did you know there was a girl next door?"

"Yes, of course." There was nothing in Maurice's tone to indicate how
brief a time had passed since this information had been acquired.

"Truly? I don't believe it," Katherine faltered.

"She is Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so
now!"

Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out,
little short of supernatural. "Don't you want to see her?" she asked
meekly. "There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush,
and she is walking to and fro studying something." Would Maurice declare
he had already seen this girl?

Maurice sat up and reached for a crutch that rested against the tree. He
had his share of curiosity. He was a tall, well-grown boy of thirteen, and
it was apparent as he swung himself after Katherine, that accident and not
disease had caused his lameness.

Rosalind, studying her hymn all unconscious of observation, was a pleasant
sight.

"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Katherine, but Maurice silenced her so
sternly she concluded he did not agree with her.

In reality he thought very much as she did, although he would not have
used the same adjective. There was something unusual about this girl. Why
it was, he did not understand, but she seemed somehow to belong in a
special way to the sweet old garden with its June roses. Maurice had
fancies that would have astonished Katherine beyond measure if she could
have known anything about them. But how was she to know when he pinched
her arm and looked sternly indifferent?

The tea bell called them back to the house; on the way Katherine's
enthusiasm burst forth afresh.

"Isn't she sweet? and such a beautiful name--Rosalind. How old do you
think she is? and do you suppose she is going to live there? Oh, Maurice,
shouldn't you be afraid of Mrs. Whittredge?"

"I don't know anything about her," Maurice replied, forgetting for the
moment that he bad been pretending to know a great deal.

"I should like to have my hair tied on top of my head with a big ribbon
bow as hers is," continued Katherine, who would innocently persist in
laying herself open to brotherly scorn.

"I suppo