e prudent, for I'm
afraid you may get a little fierce you do sometimes when people vex
me," began Rose, rather liking the prospect of a confidential chat with
Uncle, for he had kept himself a good deal in the background lately.

"You know our ideas are old-fashioned, so I was not prepared to have
men propose at all times and places with no warning but a few smiles and
soft speeches. I expected things of that sort would be very interesting
and proper, not to say thrilling, on my part but they are not, and I
find myself laughing instead of crying, feeling angry instead of glad,
and forgetting all about it very soon. Why, Uncle, one absurd boy
proposed when we'd met only half a dozen times. But he was dreadfully in
debt, so that accounted for it perhaps." And Rose dusted her fingers, as
if she had soiled them.

"I know him, and I thought he'd do it," observed the doctor with a
shrug.

"You see and know everything, so there's no need of going on, is there?"

"Do, do! Who else? I won't even guess."

"Well, another went down upon his knees in Mrs. Van's greenhouse and
poured forth his passion manfully, with a great cactus pricking his poor
legs all the while. Kitty found him there, and it was impossible to keep
sober, so he has hated me ever since."

The doctor's "Ha! Ha!" was good to hear, and Rose joined him, for it was
impossible to regard these episodes seriously, since no true sentiment
redeemed them from absurdity.

"Another sent me reams of poetry and went on so Byronically that I
began to wish I had red hair and my name was Betsy Ann. I burnt all the
verses, so don't expect to see them, and he, poor fellow, is consoling
himself with Emma. But the worst of all was the one who would make love
in public and insisted on proposing in the middle of a dance. I seldom
dance round dances except with our boys, but that night I did because
the girls laughed at me for being so 'prudish,' as they called it. I
don't mind them now, for I found I was right, and felt that I deserved
my fate."

"Is that all?" asked her uncle, looking "fierce," as she predicted,
at the idea of his beloved girl obliged to listen to a declaration,
twirling on the arm of a lover.

"One more but him I shall not tell about, for I know he was in earnest
and really suffered, though I was as kind as I knew how to be. I'm young
in these things yet, so I grieved for him, and treat his love with the
tenderest respect."

Rose's voice sank almost to a w