d almost involuntarily, he
actually laughed low to himself, as if this order into exile pleased him
much.

"Don't say that you give nothing, when you've just shown me that I'm
getting on. I'll go; I'll go at once, and see if absence won't help
you 'to think, to know, and to be sure' as it did me. I wish I could do
something more for you. As I can't, good-bye."

"Are you going now?" And Rose paused in her retreat to look back with a
startled face as he offered her a badly made pen and opened the door
for her just as Dr. Alec always did; for, in spite of himself, Mac did
resemble the best of uncles.

"Not yet, but you seem to be."

Rose turned as red as a poppy, snatched the pen, and flew upstairs, to
call herself hard names as she industriously spoiled all Aunt Plenty's
new pocket handkerchiefs by marking them "A.M.C."

Three days later Mac said "good-bye" in earnest, and no one was
surprised that he left somewhat abruptly, such being his way, and a
course of lectures by a famous physician the ostensible reason for a
trip to L----. Uncle Alec deserted most shamefully at the last moment
by sending word that he would be at the station to see the traveler
off, Aunt Plenty was still in her room, so when Mac came down from his
farewell to her, Rose met him in the hall, as if anxious not to delay
him. She was a little afraid of another tete-a-tete, as she fared so
badly at the last, and had assumed a calm and cousinly air which she
flattered herself would plainly show on what terms she wished to part.

Mac apparently understood, and not only took the hint, but surpassed her
in cheerful composure, for, merely saying "Good-bye, Cousin; write
when you feel like it," he shook hands and walked out of the house as
tranquilly as if only a day instead of three months were to pass before
they met again. Rose felt as if a sudden shower bath had chilled her
and was about to retire, saying to herself with disdainful decision:
"There's no love about it after all, only one of the eccentricities of
genius," when a rush of cold air made her turn to find herself in what
appeared to be the embrace of an impetuous overcoat, which wrapped her
close for an instant, then vanished as suddenly as it had come, leaving
her to hide in the sanctum and confide to Psyche with a tender sort of
triumph in her breathless voice: "No, no, it isn't genius that must be
love!"

Chapter 19 BEHIND THE FOUNTAIN

Two days after Christmas a young man of