to like to set out on the
front door-step and look at the moon, and make plans."

"Don't you ever now?" asked Rose.

"Now we go to bed and to sleep," replied Sylvia, decisively. There
was a silence. "I guess it's pretty late," said Sylvia, in a meaning
tone. "What time is it, Mr. Allen?"

Horace consulted his watch. "It is not very late," said he. It did
not seem to him that Mrs. Whitman could stay.

"It can't be very late," said Rose.

"What time is it?" asked Sylvia, relentlessly.

"About half-past ten," replied Horace, with reluctance.

"I call that very late," said Sylvia. "It is late for Rose, anyway."

"I don't feel at all tired," said Rose.

"You must be," said Sylvia. "You can't always go by feelings."

She swayed pitilessly back and forth in her rocking-chair. Horace
waited in an agony of impatience for her to leave them, but she had
no intention of doing so. She rocked. Now and then she made some
maddening little remark which had nothing whatever to do with the
situation. Then she rocked again. Finally she triumphed. Rose stood
up. "I think it is getting rather late," said she.

"It is very late," agreed Sylvia, also rising. Horace rose. There was
a slight pause. It seemed even then that Sylvia might take pity upon
them and leave them. But she stood like a rock. It was quite evident
that she would settle again into her rocking-chair at the slightest
indication which the two young people made of a disposition to remain.

Rose gave a fluttering little sigh. She extended her hand to Horace.
"Good-night, Mr. Allen," she said.

"Good-night," returned Horace. "Good-night, Mrs. Whitman."

"It is time you went to bed, too," said Sylvia.

"I think I'll go in and have a smoke with Mr. Whitman first," said
Horace.

"He's going to bed, too," said Sylvia. "He's tired. Good-night, Mr.
Allen. If you open that window again, you'll be sure and shut it down
before you go up-stairs, won't you?"

Horace promised that he would. Sylvia went with Rose into her room to
unfasten her gown. A lamp was burning on the dressing-table. Rose
kept her back turned towards the light. Her pretty face was flushed
and she was almost in tears. Sylvia hung the girl's gown up
carefully, then she looked at her lovingly. Unless Rose made the
first advance, when Sylvia would submit with inward rapture but
outward stiffness, there never were good-night kisses exchanged
between the two.

"You look all tired out," said Sylvia.

"I