r. Alec's prescriptions as
possible and, remembering how much good Cozy Corner did her long ago,
resolved to try it on her baby. Aunt Jessie and Jamie went with her, and
Mother Atkinson received them as cordially as ever. The pretty daughters
were all married and gone, but a stout damsel took their place, and
nothing seemed changed except that the old heads were grayer and the
young ones a good deal taller than six years ago.

Jamie immediately fraternized with neighboring boys and devoted himself
to fishing with an ardor which deserved greater success. Aunt Jessie
reveled in reading, for which she had no time at home, and lay in
her hammock a happy woman, with no socks to darn, buttons to sew, or
housekeeping cares to vex her soul. Rose went about with Dulce like a
very devoted hen with one rather feeble chicken, for she was anxious to
have this treatment work well and tended her little patient with
daily increasing satisfaction. Dr. Alec came up to pass a few days and
pronounced the child in a most promising condition. But the grand event
of the season was the unexpected arrival of Phebe.

Two of her pupils had invited her to join them in a trip to the
mountains, and she ran away from the great hotel to surprise her little
mistress with a sight of her, so well and happy that Rose had no anxiety
left on her account.

Three delightful days they spent, roaming about together, talking as
only girls can talk after a long separation, and enjoying one another
like a pair of lovers. As if to make it quite perfect, by one of those
remarkable coincidences which sometimes occur, Archie happened to run
up for the Sunday, so Phebe had her surprise, and Aunt Jessie and the
telegraph kept their secret so well, no one ever knew what maternal
machinations brought the happy accident to pass.

Then Rose saw a very pretty, pastoral bit of lovemaking, and long after
it was over, and Phebe gone one way, Archie another, the echo of sweet
words seemed to linger in the air, tender ghosts to haunt the pine
grove, and even the big coffeepot had a halo of romance about it, for
its burnished sides reflected the soft glances the lovers interchanged
as one filled the other's cup at that last breakfast.

Rose found these reminiscences more interesting than any novel she had
read, and often beguiled her long leisure by planning a splendid future
for her Phebe as she trotted about after her baby in the lovely July
weather.

On one of the most p