said Rose.

Mr. Moore turned to her with a little surprise, smiling at the same
time.

"How do you know I am not sentimental, Rose?"

"Because I heard a lady say you were not."

"Voila, qui devient interessant!" exclaimed Mr. Yorke, hitching his
chair nearer the fire. "A lady! That has quite a romantic twang. We must
guess who it is.--Rosy, whisper the name low to your father. Don't let
_him_ hear."

"Rose, don't be too forward to talk," here interrupted Mrs. Yorke, in
her usual kill-joy fashion, "nor Jessy either. It becomes all children,
especially girls, to be silent in the presence of their elders."

"Why have we tongues, then?" asked Jessy pertly; while Rose only looked
at her mother with an expression that seemed to say she should take that
maxim in and think it over at her leisure. After two minutes' grave
deliberation, she asked, "And why especially girls, mother?"

"Firstly, because I say so; and secondly, because discretion and reserve
are a girl's best wisdom."

"My dear madam," observed Moore, "what you say is excellent--it reminds
me, indeed, of my dear sister's observations; but really it is not
applicable to these little ones. Let Rose and Jessy talk to me freely,
or my chief pleasure in coming here is gone. I like their prattle; it
does me good."

"Does it not?" asked Jessy. "More good than if the rough lads came round
you.--You call them rough, mother, yourself."

"Yes, mignonne, a thousand times more good. I have rough lads enough
about me all day long, poulet."

"There are plenty of people," continued she, "who take notice of the
boys. All my uncles and aunts seem to think their nephews better than
their nieces, and when gentlemen come here to dine, it is always
Matthew, and Mark, and Martin that are talked to, and never Rose and me.
Mr. Moore is _our_ friend, and we'll keep him.--But mind, Rose, he's not
so much your friend as he is mine. He is my _particular acquaintance_;
remember that!" And she held up her small hand with an admonitory
gesture.

Rose was quite accustomed to be admonished by that small hand. Her will
daily bent itself to that of the impetuous little Jessy. She was guided,
overruled by Jessy in a thousand things. On all occasions of show and
pleasure Jessy took the lead, and Rose fell quietly into the background;
whereas, when the disagreeables of life--its work and privations--were
in question, Rose instinctively took upon her, in addition to her own
share, what sh