ce, and
presently banished it by saying pleasantly,

"I've got a capital little cup among my traps, and I'll give it to you
to drink your milk in, as it is made of wood that is supposed to improve
whatever is put into it something like a quassia cup. That reminds me;
one of the boxes Phebe wanted to lug upstairs last night is for you.
Knowing that I was coming home to find a ready-made daughter, I picked
up all sorts of odd and pretty trifles along the way, hoping she would
be able to find something she liked among them all. Early to-morrow
we'll have a grand rummage. Here's our milk! I propose the health of
Miss Rose Campbell and drink it with all my heart."

It was impossible for Rose to pout with the prospect of a delightful
boxful of gifts dancing before her eyes; so, in spite of herself, she
smiled as she drank her own health, and found that fresh milk was not a
hard dose to take.

"Now I must be off, before I am caught again with my wig in a toss,"
said Dr. Alec, preparing to descend the way he came.

"Do you always go in and out like a cat, uncle?" asked Rose, much amused
at his odd ways.

"I used to sneak out of my window when I was a boy, so I need not
disturb the aunts, and now I rather like it, for it's the shortest road,
and it keeps me limber when I have no rigging to climb. Good-bye till
breakfast." And away he went down the water-spout, over the roof, and
vanished among the budding honey-suckles below.

"Ain't he a funny guardeen?" exclaimed Phebe, as she went off with the
cups.

"He is a very kind one, I think," answered Rose, following, to prowl
round the big boxes and try to guess which was hers.

When her uncle appeared at sound of the bell, he found her surveying
with an anxious face a new dish that smoked upon the table.

"Got a fresh trouble, Rosy?" he asked, stroking her smooth head.

"Uncle, are you going to make me eat oatmeal?" asked Rose, in a tragic
tone.

"Don't you like it?"

"I de-test it!" answered Rose, with all the emphasis which a turned-up
nose, a shudder, and a groan could give to the three words.

"You are not a true Scotchwoman, if you don't like the 'parritch.' It's
a pity, for I made it myself, and thought we'd have such a good time
with all that cream to float it in. Well, never mind." And he sat down
with a disappointed air.

Rose had made up her mind to be obstinate about it, because she did
heartily "detest" the dish; but as Uncle Alec did not attempt to mak