o were to sue for her sister's hand, it had sometimes
occurred to Lorraine that a far more ordinary and commonplace romance
might be enacted under her eyes near at home. Lindon had been wont to
come to the house far more frequently than Elsie, Betty or Vivien; he
had always enjoyed Rosemary's singing, and had given her his photo in a
locket before he went away. He had written to her often from the front,
and though there had been no hint of such a thing as an engagement, it
had been apparent to anyone not absolutely blind that they were
interested in each other. It is perhaps much harder for a girl, in such
circumstances, to lose her lover, than for one who is definitely
engaged, and can claim open sympathy for her sorrow. Rosemary felt that
she could not talk about Lindon to Elsie, Betty and Vivien. They had
always been rather jealous of his preference for her, and had resented
his frequent visits to Pendlehurst. They did not know about the locket
or the letters. She kissed Uncle Barton, however, with extra affection,
and he responded so warmly, holding her arm as they walked down the
garden, that she somehow thought he understood.

So Rosemary gulped back this trouble as she had borne her
disappointment about the College of Music, and flung herself into that
universal panacea for heart-breaks--work for the Red Cross. She slaved
at scullery-duty three mornings a week at the hospital, and put in
alternate afternoons rolling bandages at the depot. She would have given
up her whole time to either, but that her mother would not allow.

"You're all eyes, child!" she commented. "You must get out into the
fresh air this lovely weather, and put some roses into your cheeks. I
shall give you a tonic. You look like a canary that's been moulting."

Privately, Rosemary felt as if her heart had been moulting, and she had
not yet had time to grow her new spiritual feathers. The fact that
anybody was noticing, however, made her brace up. She had no wish to
pose as a sentimentalist. She swallowed the tonic dutifully, took the
prescribed daily walk, and even, with a great effort, practised the
piano. She could not yet bring herself to touch her songs--the
remembrance of Signor Arezzo's verdict was still too raw.

[Illustration: CLAUDIA FLUNG HER ARMS ROUND ROSEMARY'S NECK AND
HUGGED HER]

One glorious beautiful afternoon saw Rosemary wending her way up the
hill to the Castletons. Lorraine had promised to send a paper pattern to
Cla