about in a dazed sort of way,
seeing, hearing, knowing nothing but Phebe, while the unconscious idol
found something wanting in the cordial praise so modestly received
because Mr. Archie never said a word.

This was one of the remarkable things which occurred that evening.
Another was that Mac paid Rose a compliment, which was such an
unprecedented fact, it produced a great sensation, though only one
person heard it.

Everybody had gone but Mac and his father, who was busy with the doctor.
Aunt Plenty was counting the teaspoons in the dining room, and Phebe was
helping her as of old. Mac and Rose were alone he apparently in a brown
study, leaning his elbows on the chimneypiece, and she lying back in a
low chair looking thoughtfully at the fire. She was tired, and the quiet
was grateful to her, so she kept silence and Mac respectfully held his
tongue. Presently, however, she became conscious that he was looking at
her as intently as eyes and glasses could do it, and without stirring
from her comfortable attitude, she said, smiling up at him, "He looks as
wise as an owl I wonder what he's thinking about?"

"You, Cousin."

"Something good, I hope?"

"I was thinking Leigh Hunt was about right when he said, 'A girl is the
sweetest thing God ever made.'"

"Why, Mac!" and Rose sat bolt upright with an astonished face this was
such an entirely unexpected sort of remark for the philosopher to make.

Evidently interested in the new discovery, Mac placidly continued, "Do
you know, it seems as if I never really saw a girl before, or had
any idea what agreeable creatures they could be. I fancy you are a
remarkably good specimen, Rose."

"No, indeed! I'm only hearty and happy, and being safe at home again
may make me look better than usual perhaps, but I'm no beauty except to
Uncle."

"'Hearty and happy' that must be it," echoed Mac, soberly investigating
the problem. "Most girls are sickly or silly, I think I have observed,
and that is probably why I am so struck with you."

"Of all the queer boys you are the queerest! Do you really mean that
you don't like or notice girls?" asked Rose, much amused at this new
peculiarity of her studious cousin.

"Well, no, I am only conscious of two sorts noisy and quiet ones. I
prefer the latter, but, as a general thing, I don't notice any of them
much more than I do flies, unless they bother me, then I'd like to flap
them away, but as that won't do, I hide."

Rose leaned back and