m stretched out here, he's a stronger character than
I think him."

"Now let's go up and look at the guest-rooms." Ellen led the way, an
engaging figure in a fresh white morning dress, her cheeks glowing with
colour like a girl's.

"If you didn't know, would you ever dream she had been wife and widow,
and had lost her little son?" murmured Winifred in Martha's ear.

Martha Macauley shook her head. "She seems to have gone back and begun
all over again. Yet there's a look--"

Winifred nodded. "Of course there is--a look she wouldn't have had if she
hadn't gone through so much. It's given her such a rich sort of bloom."

The guest-rooms were airy, attractive, chintz-hung rooms, one large, one
somewhat smaller, but both wearing a hospitable look of readiness.

"I like the gray-and-rose room best," announced Winifred, after a
critical survey, as if she were inspecting both rooms for the first time
instead of the fortieth. She had made the gray-and-rose chintz hangings
herself, delighting in each exquisite yard of the fine imported material.

"I prefer the green-leaf pattern, it looks so cool and fresh." Martha
eyed details admiringly. "This is your bachelor's room, you say, Ellen?
Oh, you've put a desk in it! The bachelor will want to stay forever. Who
do you suppose he will be?"

"The first friend of Red's who comes. He says he's always wanted to ask
certain ones, and never had a place to put them, except at the hotel."

"He'd better be careful whom he asks--now. They'll all fall in love with
you. By the way, do you know Red has a terribly jealous streak?" Winifred
glanced quickly at Ellen as she spoke.

"No--what nonsense! How do you like my idea of a book-shelf by the bed,
and a drop-light?"

"Pampering--pure pampering of your bachelors. You'll never be rid of
them. But he can be jealous, Ellen."

"What makes you think so? I never saw a trace of it," cried Martha
Macauley.

"It's there--you mark my words. He couldn't help it--with his hair and
eyes."

Ellen laughed. "Hair and eyes! What about my black locks and eyes? Shall
I not make a trustful wife, because I happen to have them? Oh!"--she ran
to the window--"there comes the Imp! You'll excuse me if I run down?
Red's been away all night and all morning."

She disappeared as the Green Imp's horn vociferated a signal of greeting
from far down the road.

"They'll never get time to grow tired of each other," commented Martha,
as the two friends descended