done soon after his return by Charlie in one of his
brief fits of inspiration. Only a crayon, but wonderfully lifelike and
carefully finished, as few of the others were. This had been handsomely
framed and now held the place of honor, garlanded with green wreaths,
while the great Indian jar below blazed with a pyramid of hothouse
flowers sent by Kitty. Rose was giving these a last touch, with Dulce
close by, cooing over a handful of sweet "daffydowndillies," when the
sound of wheels sent her flying to the door. She meant to have spoken
the first welcome and had the first embrace, but when she saw the
altered face in the carriage, the feeble figure being borne up the steps
by all the boys, she stood motionless till Phebe caught her in her arms,
whispering with a laugh and a cry struggling in her voice: "I did it for
you, my darling, all for you!"

"Oh, Phebe, never say again you owe me anything! I never can repay you
for this," was all Rose had time to answer as they stood one instant
cheek to cheek, heart to heart, both too full of happiness for many
words.

Aunt Plenty had heard the wheels also and, as everybody rose en masse,
had said as impressively as extreme agitation would allow, while she
put her glasses on upside down and seized a lace tidy instead of her
handkerchief: "Stop! All stay here, and let me receive Alec. Remember
his weak state, and be calm, quite calm, as I am.'

"Yes, Aunt, certainly," was the general murmur of assent, but it was
as impossible to obey as it would have been to keep feathers still in
a gale, and one irresistible impulse carried the whole roomful into the
hall to behold Aunt Plenty beautifully illustrating her own theory of
composure by waving the tidy wildly, rushing into Dr. Alec's arms, and
laughing and crying with a hysterical abandonment which even Aunt Myra
could not have surpassed.

The tearful jubilee was soon over, however, and no one seemed the
worse for it, for the instant his arms were at liberty, Dr. Alec forgot
himself and began to make other people happy by saying seriously, though
his thin face beamed paternally, as he drew Phebe forward: "Aunt Plenty,
but for this good daughter I never should have come back to be so
welcomed. Love her for my sake."

Then the old lady came out splendidly and showed her mettle, for,
turning to Phebe, she bowed her gray head as if saluting an equal and,
offering her hand, answered with repentance, admiration, and tenderness
trembli