go away. They have always said they should live abroad as soon as
they were able." Rose looked a little troubled for a moment, then she
laughed. "They kept me as long as they needed me," said she, with a
pleasant cynicism, "and I don't know but I had lived with them long
enough to suit myself. Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela were always nice
to me, but sometimes--well, sometimes I felt so outside them that I
was awfully lonesome. And Mrs. Wilton always did just what you knew
she would, and so did Miss Pamela, and it was a little like living
with machines that were wound up to do the right thing by you, but
didn't do it of their own accord. Now they have run down, just like
machines. I know as well as I want to that Aunt Susan has died and
left them her money. I shall get a letter to-morrow telling me about
it. I think myself that Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela will get married
now. They never gave up, you know. Mrs. Wilton's husband died ages
ago, and she was as much of an old maid as Miss Pamela, and neither
of them would give up. They will be countesses or duchesses or
something within a year."

Rose laughed, and Sylvia beamed upon her. "If you feel that you can
stay here," she said, timidly.

"_If_ I feel that I can," said Rose. She stretched out her slender
arms, from which the lace-trimmed sleeves of her night-gown fell away
to the shoulder, and Sylvia let them close around her thin neck and
felt the young cheek upon her own with a rapture like a lover's.

"Those folks she lived with in New York are going to Europe
to-morrow," she told Henry, when she was down-stairs again, "and they
have treated that poor child mean. They have never told her a word
about it until now. She says she thinks their rich aunt has died and
left them her money, and they have just cleared out and left her."

"Well, she can stay with us as long as she is contented," said Henry.

"I rather guess she can," said Sylvia.

Henry regarded her with the wondering expression which was often on
his face nowadays. He had glimpses of the maternal depths of his
wife's heart, which, while not understanding, he acquiesced in; but
there was something else which baffled him.

But now for Sylvia came a time of contentment, apparently beyond
anything which had ever come into her life. She fairly revelled in
her possession of Rose, and the girl in her turn seemed to
reciprocate. Although the life in East Westland was utterly at
variance with the life she ha