xiously.

It was rather a shock when it came, however, for a great nosegay dropped
into her lap and a voice, bold and gay as usual, said lightly: "Here she
is, as pretty and pensive as you please. Is the world hollow, our
doll stuffed with sawdust, and do we want to go into a nunnery today,
Cousin?"

Rose was so taken aback by this unexpected coolness that the flowers lay
unnoticed as she looked up with a face so full of surprise, reproach,
and something like shame that it was impossible to mistake its meaning.
Charlie did not, and had the grace to redden deeply, and his eyes fell
as he said quickly, though in the same light tone: "I humbly apologize
for coming so late last night. Don't be hard upon me, Cousin. You know
America expects every man to do his duty on New Year's Day."

"I am tired of forgiving! You make and break promises as easily as you
did years ago, and I shall never ask you for another," answered Rose,
putting the bouquet away, for the apology did not satisfy her and she
would not be bribed to silence.

"But, my dear girl, you are so very exacting, so peculiar in your
notions, and so angry about trifles that a poor fellow can't please you,
try as he will," began Charlie, ill at ease, but too proud to show half
the penitence he felt, not so much for the fault as for her discovery of
it.

"I am not angry I am grieved and disappointed, for I expect every man to
do his duty in another way and keep his word to the uttermost, as I try
to do. If that is exacting, I'm sorry, and won't trouble you with my
old-fashioned notions anymore."

"Bless my soul! What a rout about nothing! I own that I forgot I know I
acted like a fool and I beg pardon. What more can I do?"

"Act like a man, and never let me be so terribly ashamed of you again as
I was last night." And Rose gave a little shiver as she thought of it.

That involuntary act hurt Charlie more than her words, and it was his
turn now to feel "terribly ashamed," for the events of the previous
evening were very hazy in his mind and fear magnified them greatly.
Turning sharply away, he went and stood by the fire, quite at a loss how
to make his peace this time, because Rose was so unlike herself. Usually
a word of excuse sufficed, and she seemed glad to pardon and forget;
now, though very quiet, there was something almost stern about her that
surprised and daunted him, for how could he know that all the while her
pitiful heart was pleading for him and the