Then it must be confessed that a tear or two dimmed the blue eyes, and
once, when a very brilliant display illuminated the island for a moment,
and she fancied she saw the tents, the curly head went down on the
railing, and a wide-awake nasturtium heard a little whisper,

"I hope someone wishes I was there!"

The tears were all gone, however, and she was watching the hill and
island answer each other with what Jamie called "whizzers, whirligigs
and busters," and smiling as she thought how hard the boys must be
working to keep up such a steady fire, when Uncle Mac came walking in
upon her, saying hurriedly,

"Come, child, put on your tippet, pelisse, or whatever you call it, and
run off with me. I came to get Phebe, but aunt says she is gone, so I
want you. I've got Fun down in the boat, and I want you to go with us
and see my fireworks. Got them up for you, and you mustn't miss them, or
I shall be disappointed."

"But, uncle," began Rose, feeling as if she ought to refuse even a
glimpse of bliss, "perhaps--"

"I know, my dear, I know; aunt told me; but no one needs you now so much
as I do, and I insist on your coming," said Uncle Mac, who seemed in a
great hurry to be off, yet was unusually kind.

So Rose went and found the little Chinaman with a funny lantern waiting
to help her in and convulse her with laughter trying to express his
emotions in pigeon English. The city clocks were striking nine as they
got out into the bay, and the island fireworks seemed to be over, for no
rocket answered the last Roman candle that shone on the Aunt-hill.

"Ours are done, I see, but they are going up all round the city, and how
pretty they are," said Rose, folding her mantle about her, and surveying
the scene with pensive interest.

"Hope my fellows have not got into trouble up there," muttered Uncle
Mac, adding with a satisfied chuckle, as a spark shone out, "No; there
it goes! Look, Rosy, and see how you like this one; it was ordered
especially in honour of your coming."

Rose looked with all her eyes, and saw the spark grow into the likeness
of a golden vase, then green leaves came out, and then a crimson flower
glowing on the darkness with a splendid lustre.

"Is it a rose, uncle?" she asked, clasping her hands with delight as she
recognised the handsome flower.

"Of course it is! Look again, and guess what those are," answered Uncle
Mac, chuckling and enjoying it all like a boy.

A wreath of what looked at first li