. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty--I
mean Cousin Betty--told us about the lost ring and--was she my
aunt?--Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?"

"Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She
died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to
resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood."

Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half
reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark
leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair.
"Then I know she must have been lovely," she said.

Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is
that?"

"Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble
her," her mother replied.

Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although
she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said.

"I don't believe," thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, "that
Miss Patricia--Aunt Patricia--looked as if she didn't care about anything.
She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do
that have a kind look." Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her
dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it
to her lips; "Like you, my dear beautiful," she whispered.

CHAPTER TENTH.

CELIA.

"One out of suits with fortune."

"O Celia!" called Miss Betty Bishop, from her front door, "come in a
minute. I had a tea party last night, and I want to send your mother some
of Sophy's marshmallow cake. I am so glad you happened by," she added, as
Celia came up the walk, "I was wondering how I should get it to her."

"It is very kind of you, Miss Betty," said Celia, following her into the
dining room.

"There is no kindness about it," asserted Miss Betty, opening the cake
box. "I am just proud of Sophy's good things and like to make other people
envy me."

"That is not hard," Celia answered, thinking that life seemed easy and
pleasant in this snug little house. Miss Betty had had her hard times, she
knew, but the troubles of others are apt to seem easier to bear than
one's own, just as in bad weather the best walking is always on the other
side of the street.

Celia was warm and tired, and the dim, cool room was grateful to her as
she sat resting in silence while Miss Betty fluttered back and forth.

"Perhaps you'll think I'd better