n Thursday, why should it, unless Rosemary,
for some reason best known to herself, had tampered with the United
States Mail?

There was also a letter, and Rosemary waited eagerly for the postmaster
to finish weighing out two pounds of brown sugar and five cents' worth
of tea for old Mrs. Simms. She pressed her nose to the glass, and
squinted, but the address eluded her. Still, she was sure it was for
her, and, very probably, from Alden, whom she had not seen for ten days.

[Sidenote: Ways and Means]

She felt a crushing sense of disappointment when she saw that it was not
from Alden, but was addressed in an unfamiliar hand. Regardless of the
deference she was accustomed to accord a letter, she tore it open
hastily and read:

"MY DEAR ROSEMARY:

"Can you come to tea on Saturday afternoon about four? We have a
guest whom I am sure you would like to meet.

"Affectionately, your

"MOTHER."

The words were formal enough, and the quaint stateliness of the
handwriting conveyed its own message of reserve and distance but the
signature thrilled her through and through. "Mother!" she repeated, in a
whisper. She went out of the post-office blindly, with the precious
missive tightly clasped in her trembling hand.

Would she go? Of course she would, even though it meant facing
Grandmother, Aunt Matilda, and all the dogs of war.

As the first impulse faded, she became more cautious, and began to
consider ways and means. It was obviously impossible to wear brown
gingham or brown alpaca to a tea-party. That meant that she must somehow
get her old white muslin down from the attic, iron it, mend it, and
freshen it up as best she could. She had no doubt of her ability to do
it, for both old ladies were sound sleepers, and Rosemary had learned to
step lightly, in bare feet, upon secret errands around the house at
night.

[Sidenote: Secret Longings]

But how could she hope to escape, unobserved, on Saturday afternoon?
And, even if she managed to get away, what of the inevitable return? Why
not, for once, make a bold declaration of independence, and say, calmly:
"Grandmother, I am going to Mrs. Marsh's Saturday afternoon at four, and
I am going to wear my white dress." Not "May I go?" or "May I wear it?"
but "I am going," and "I am going to wear it."

At the thought Rosemary shuddered and her soul quailed within her. She
knew that she would never dare to do it. At the c