to stay all night, Charles Edward giving him a cigar
to smoke on the way, I explaining to Lorraine that I'd sleep on the
parlor sofa and leave the guest-room free, and Mr. Dane declaring he'd
got a million things to do before sailing. Then he and Charles Edward
dashed out into the night, as Alice would say, and I should have thought
it was a dream that he'd been there at all except that I felt his touch
on my hand. And Lorraine put her arms round me and kissed me and said,
"Now, you sweet child, run up-stairs and look at the moonlight and
dream--and dream--and dream."

I don't know whether I slept that night; but, if I did, I did not dream.

The next forenoon I waited until eleven o'clock before I went home. I
wanted to be sure Aunt Elizabeth was safely away at Whitman. Yet, after
all, I did not dread her now. I had been told what to do. Some one
was telling me of a song the other day, "Command me, dear." I had been
commanded to stop thinking of all those things I hated. I had done it.
Mother met me at the steps. She seemed a little anxious, but when she
had put her hand on my shoulder and really looked at me she smiled the
way I love to see her smile. "That's a good girl!" said she. Then she
added, quickly, as if she thought I might not like it and ought to know
at once, "Aunt Elizabeth saw Dr. Denbigh going by to Whitman, and she
asked him to take her over."

"Did she?" said I. "Oh, mother, the old white rose is out!"

"There they are, back again," said mother. "He's leaving her at the
gate."

Well, we both waited for Aunt Elizabeth to come up the path. I picked
the first white rose and made mother smell it, and when I had smelled
it myself I began to sing under my breath, "Come into the garden, Maud,"
because I remembered last night.

"Hush, child," said mother, quickly. "Elizabeth, you are tired. Come
right in."

Aunt Elizabeth's lip trembled a little. I thought she was going to cry.
I had never known her to cry, though I had seen tears in her eyes, and
I remember once, when she was talking to Dr. Denbigh, Charles Edward
noticed them and laughed. "Those are not idle tears, Peg," he said to me
"They're getting in their work."

Now I was so sorry for her that I stopped thinking of last night and put
it all away. It seemed cruel to be so happy. Aunt Elizabeth sat down
on the step and mother brought her an eggnog. It had been all ready for
grandmother, and I could see mother thought Aunt Elizabeth needed it, i