washed her hands and was wiping them on the roller-towel in
the kitchen.

"Maybe I did," admitted Henry. "You look like yourself to-night,
anyhow. How is Rose?"

"Rose is all right. Young girls are always getting nervous kinks. I
took her supper up to her, and she ate every mite, and now I have
given her her aunt's jewelry and she's tickled to pieces with it,
standing before the looking-glass and staring at herself like a
little peacock." Sylvia laughed with tender triumph.

"I suppose now she'll be decking herself out, and every young man in
East Westland will be after her," said Henry. He laughed, but a
little bitterly. He, also, was not altogether unselfish concerning
the proprietorship of this young thing which had come into his
elderly life. He was not as Sylvia, but although he would have denied
it he privately doubted if even Horace was quite good enough for this
girl. When it came to it, in his heart of hearts, he doubted if any
but the fatherly love which he himself gave might be altogether good
for her.

"Rose is perfectly contented just the way she is," declared Sylvia,
turning upon him. "I shouldn't be surprised if she lived out her days
here, just as her aunt did."

"Maybe it would be the best thing," said Henry. "She's got us as long
as we live." Henry straightened himself as he spoke. Since his
resolve to resume his work he had felt years younger. Lately he had
been telling himself miserably that he was an old man, that his
life-work was over. To-night the pulses of youth leaped in his veins.
He was so pleasantly excited that after he and Sylvia had gone to bed
it was long before he fell asleep, but he did at last, and just in
time for Rose and Horace.

Rose, after Sylvia went down-stairs, had put out her light and sat
down beside the window gazing out into the night. She still wore her
jewels. She could not bear to take them off. It was a beautiful
night. The day had been rather warm, but the night was one of
coolness and peace. The moon was just rising. Rose could see it
through the leafy branches of an opposite elm-tree. It seemed to be
caught in the green foliage. New shadows were leaping out of the
distance as the moon increased. The whole landscape was dotted with
white luminosities which it was bliss not to explain, just to leave
mysteries. Wonderful sweetnesses and fresh scents of growing things,
dew-wet, came in her face.

Rose was very happy. Only an hour before she had been miserable,