; and everywhere roses, roses! carved and painted and
embroidered,--it is really the Rose-bower, as he calls it. Her own
little sitting-room, up-stairs--oh, such a little rosy-posy nest!
rosewood desk,--and everything soft covered with rose-flowered
chintz--curtains, too,--and the most de-lightful sofa I ever did see!
And her little work-table, and--oh, well, Mammina, I think, after all,
that made me happier than anything,--unless it was the sight of Nurse
Lucy's face when she recognised me! But, remembering all that Rose
suffered, and all the cramped, anxious days and years, and then seeing
her, a rose in full bloom, in her own pretty house, with such signs of
loving care all about her,--it was good, good!"

"Yes, indeed!" said Mrs. Grahame, heartily. "I am sure that was a real
treat, darling. And Bubble--you say he is grown such a fine lad!"

"Bubble is enchanting! not handsome--well, but you need not laugh,
Mammina, for he is _very_ good looking, and certainly has an air of
distinction. He holds his head so well; and he walks well, and,
altogether--oh, I am proud of Bubble. And Rose says that Doctor Flower
is sure the boy has a career before him; he never had so apt a pupil.
And he speaks such beautiful English, Rose says."

"Rose says!" repeated Mrs. Grahame. "I thought you had a good little
talk with the boy himself."

"Oh, so I had, but he _would_ not talk anything but the broadest Yankee.
He insisted that he was precisely the same freckled boy that he was when
I first saw him; and he carried on in the most absurd way. He was almost
like Gerald; dear Gerald! I didn't see any of the Merryweathers, Mamma;
so there was something lacking, after all."

"It would be a weary world if there were not," said her mother. "But
speaking of the Merryweathers--have you noticed, Hilda dear, whether the
night is clear?"

"Whether the night is clear, Mammina? No, I did not look. What do you
mean, darling? Shall I go to the door--"

"No; not to the door," said Mrs. Grahame. "Go to the window, child; the
west window, that looks across the hedge. Tell me if the stars are
out."

Wondering greatly at this sudden solicitude about the weather,
Hildegarde crossed the room and drew the curtain.

"Clear as a bell," she said. "Stars all out, and wind,--oh, oh, Mammina!
Why, there are lights in the windows of Pumpkin House! Mamma, they have
come!"

She turned upon her mother with eyes alight with happy inquiry.

"They have come,"