o go to Scotland, then, but he is all right now.
Of course you are not to suppose that I blame Rose. Such things will
happen, and it is well it is no worse. It is the way with those girls
not to know or value true worth because they see it every day."

"Poor Charlie!" said Graeme, softly.

"Oh, don't fret about Charlie. He is all right now. He is not the man
to lose the good of his life because a silly girl doesn't know her own
mind. `There's as good fish in the sea,' you know. If you are going to
be sorry for any one, let it be for Rosie. She has lost a rare chance
for happiness in the love of a good man."

"But it may not be lost," murmured Graeme.

"I am afraid it is," said Harry, gravely. "It is not in Rose to do
justice to Charlie. Even you don't do it, Graeme. Because he lives
just a commonplace life, and buys and sells, and comes and goes, like
other men, you women have not the discrimination to see that he is one
of a thousand. As for Rose, with her romance, and her nonsense, she is
looking for a hero and a paladin, and does not know a true heart when it
is laid at her feet. I only hope she won't wait for the `hats till the
blue-bonnets go by,' as Janet used to say."

"As I have done, you would like to add," said Graeme, laughing, for her
heart was growing light. "And Harry, dear, Rosie never had anybody's
heart laid at her feet. It is you who are growing foolish and romantic,
in your love for your friend."

"Oh! well. It doesn't matter. She will never have it now. Charlie is
all right by this time. Her high and mighty airs have cured him, and
her flippancy and her love of admiration. Fancy her walking off to-day
with that red-headed fool and quite ignoring Mrs Roxbury and her
daughter, when they--Miss Roxbury, at least--wanted to see her to engage
her for this evening."

"He is not a fool, and he cannot help his red hair," said Graeme,
laughing, though there was both sadness and vexation in her heart. "The
Goldsmiths might have called her `high and mighty' if she had left them
and gone quite out of her way, as she must have done, to speak to those
`fine carriage people.' She could only choose between the two parties,
and I think politeness and kindness suggested the propriety of going on
with her friends, not a love of admiration, as you seem determined to
suppose."

"She need not have been rude to the Roxburys, however. Charlie noticed
it as well as I."

"I think you are speaki