, from her white nest. She turned pale.

"What is it?" she said, tremulously.

"There's no need for you to go and think anything has happened until
you read it," Sylvia said. "You must be calm."

"Oh, what is it?"

"A telegram," replied Sylvia, solemnly. "You must be calm."

Rose laughed. "Oh, Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela are forever sending
telegrams," she said. "Very likely it is only to say somebody will
meet me at the Grand Central."

Sylvia looked at the girl in amazement, as she coolly opened and read
the telegram. Rose's face changed expression. She regarded the yellow
paper thoughtfully a moment before she spoke.

"If anything has happened, you must be calm," said Sylvia, looking at
her anxiously. "Of course you have lived with those people so many
years you have learned to think a good deal of them; that is only
natural; but, after all, they ain't your own."

Rose laughed again, but in rather a perplexed fashion. "Nothing has
happened," she said--"at least, nothing that you are thinking
of--but--"

"But what?"

"Why, Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela are going to sail for Genoa
to-morrow, and that puts an end to my going to New York to them."

A great brightness overspread Sylvia's face. "Well, you ain't left
stranded," she said. "You've got your home here."

Rose looked gratefully at her. "You do make me feel as if I had, and
I don't know what I should do if you did not, but"--she frowned
perplexedly--"all the same, one would not have thought they would
have gone off in this way without giving me a moment's notice," she
said, in rather an injured fashion, "after I have lived with them so
long. I never thought they really cared much about me. Mrs. Wilton
and Miss Pamela look too hard at their own tracks to get much
interest in anybody or anything outside; but starting off in this
way! They might have thought that I would like to go--at least they
might have told me."

Suddenly her frown of perplexity cleared away. "I know what has
happened," she said, with a nod to Sylvia. "I know exactly what has
happened."

"What?"

"Mrs. Wilton's and Miss Pamela's aunt Susan has died, and they've got
the money. They have been waiting for it ever since I have been with
them. Their aunt was over ninety, and it did begin to seem as if she
would never die."

"Was she very rich?"

"Oh, very; millions; and she never gave a cent to Mrs. Wilton and
Miss Pamela. She has died, and they have just made up their minds to