ly afraid that I shall try in spite
of me. Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela don't know anything about it. I
never said anything about it to them. I did once to Mr. McAllister,
and I did to Cousin Eliza, and she said not to try, and now I am
telling you, I suppose because you are related to me. It came over me
all of a sudden."

Rose sobbed again. Sylvia smoothed her hair, then she shook her by
the slender, soft shoulders, and again that overpowering delight
seized her. "Come, now," she said, "don't you cry another minute. You
get up and lay your underclothes away in the bureau drawers. It's
almost time to get supper, and I can't spend much more time here."

Rose obeyed. She packed away piles of laced and embroidered things in
the bureau drawers, and under Sylvia's directions hung up her gowns
in the closet. As she did this she volunteered further information.

"I do remember one thing," she said, with a shudder, "and I always
know if I could remember back of that the dreadful thing would come
to me." She paused for a moment, then she said, in a shocked voice:
"Mrs. Whitman."

"What is it?"

"I really do remember that I was in a hospital once when I was
little. I remember the nurses and the little white beds. That was not
dreadful at all. Everybody petted me, but that was when the trying
not to remember began."

"Don't you think of it another minute," Sylvia said, sternly.

"I won't; I won't, really. I--"

"For goodness' sake, child, don't hang that heavy coat over that lace
waist--you'll ruin it!" cried Sylvia.

Rose removed the coat hurriedly, and resumed, as Sylvia took it out
of her hand: "It was right after that Cousin Eliza Farrel came, and
then all that money was left to me by a cousin of father's, who died.
Then I went to live with Mrs. Wilton and Miss Pamela, and I went to
school, and I went abroad, and I always had plenty, and never any
trouble, except once in a while being afraid I should remember
something dreadful. Poor Cousin Eliza Farrel taught school all the
time. I never saw her but twice after the first time. When I grew
older I tried to have her come and live with me. Mrs. Wilton and Miss
Pamela have always been very nice to me, but I have never loved them.
I could never seem to get at enough of them to love."

"You had better put on that now," said Sylvia, indicating the fluffy
mass on the bed. "I'll help you."

"I don't like to trouble you," Rose said, almost pitifully, but she
stood still