shed here,
you know, since you are going to stay some time. I," it was so long
since anyone had seen that teasing mischief sparkling in Corrie's
unclouded eyes, "I have grown so used to your gentle, winning ways that
I don't know how to get along without you, Rupert."

Rupert settled himself in the great machine, regarding his companion
with dry intelligence.

"I've got more respect for your morals than I had, Rose, and less for
your sense," he issued final judgment above the clamor of the motor,
before sending the car away.

"Right again," Corrie agreed. He turned and looked up at the house.

The three from the limousine were waiting for him upon the columned
veranda. Weary, stiff and aching from long exertion, soiled with the
dust of course and road, Corrie, victor of that day and of many days,
climbed the broad rose-colored steps to them. There was nothing adequate
to say, had they been a demonstrative family; as it was, no one
considered speech. But at the open door Corrie stopped, turning his
bright, clear glance to his father. And Thomas Rose closed his hand on
his son's shoulder, so that they crossed the threshold together.

Gerard detained Flavia a pace behind.

"When I see you in the lace gown, I am going to kiss you," he stated
firmly. "I do not care how many people are present or where it is. So
you had better come down early to the fountain arcade, where I have
pictured you more often than you will ever know. Will you, flower-lady?"

"Perhaps," she doubted. "If I think of it."

"Heartsease for thought," said Gerard, and kissed her dimpling mouth.

On the stairs a few minutes later, Corrie overtook his sister and caught
her in his arms.

"I need a bath and some fresh rags and--well, everything," he laughed.
"I'm not fit to touch--do you mind?"

She clasped her arms around his neck, nestling her soft cheek against
the rough, grimy cloth of his driving-suit.

"I love you! Oh, my dear, my dear, if mamma had lived, this year could
never have happened! Not to you, nor to me."

He looked into her upturned face, realizing with her the difference that
might have been wrought by a mother's clairvoyant tenderness and the
link of a wife's understanding between her husband and her children. No,
without this lack in the household the year's deception could not have
endured. If the chain of Roses had not once been broken, it could not
have come so near this later destruction.

"Flavia, you know I feel how