only Dad and Bess and the
maids, but you and I, too, we can't help idolizing mamma. And sometimes
we never think of mother--our own mother!--except as tired and sick and
struggling--that's all I remember, anyway. And mamma is all strength
and sweetness and health."

"I--I know it, old lady."

"Oh, and Ted!--to-day, and sometimes before, it's hurt me so! I can't
feel--I don't want to!--anything but what I do to mamma, but
sometimes--"

She struggled for composure. Her brother cleared his throat.

"She was so wistful for pretty things and good times, even I can
remember that," said Rosemary, with pitiful recollection. "And she
never had them! SHE would have loved to stand there last night, in lace
and pearls, bowing and smiling to every one. She would have loved the
applause and the flowers. And it stings me to think of us, you and I,
proud to be mamma's stepchildren!"

"Dad worshipped mother," submitted the boy, hesitatingly.

"Yes, of course! But he was working day and night, and they were poor,
and then she was ill. I don't think she managed very well. Those
frightful, sloppy servants we used to have, and smoky fires, and sticky
summer dinners--and three bad little kids crying and leaving screen
doors open, and spilling the syrup! I remember her at the stove,
flushed and hot. You think I don't, but I do!"

"Yes, I do, too," he assented uncomfortably, frowningly.

"And do you remember the Easter eggs, Ted?"

Theodore nodded, wincing.

"She forgot to buy them, you know, and then walked two miles in the hot
spring weather, just to surprise and please us!"

"And then the eggs smashed, didn't they?"

"On the way home, yes. And we cried with fury, little beasts that we
were!" said Rosemary, as if unable to stop the sad little train of
memories. "I can remember that awful Belle that we had, making her
drink some port. I wouldn't kiss her. And she said that she would see
if she couldn't get me another egg the next day. And then Dad came in,
and scolded us all so, and carried her upstairs!"

She suddenly burst out crying, and clung to her brother. And he let her
cry for a while, patting her shoulder and talking to her until control
and even cheerfulness came back, and she could be trusted to go
upstairs and bathe her eyes for lunch.

When the lunch bell rang, Rosemary went downstairs, to find her
stepmother at the wide hall doorway with a yellow telegram in her hand.

"News from Bess," said Mrs. Bancroft, qu