ke out in unexpected places, little
balconies overhung the garden most romantically, and there was a long
upper hall full of curiosities from all parts of the world; for the
Campbells had been sea-captains for generations.

Aunt Plenty had even allowed Rose to rummage in her great china closet
a spicy retreat, rich in all the "goodies" that children love; but Rose
seemed to care little for these toothsome temptations; and when that
hope failed, Aunt Plenty gave up in despair.

Gentle Aunt Peace had tried all sorts of pretty needle-work, and planned
a doll's wardrobe that would have won the heart of even an older child.
But Rose took little interest in pink satin hats and tiny hose, though
she sewed dutifully till her aunt caught her wiping tears away with the
train of a wedding-dress, and that discovery put an end to the sewing
society.

Then both old ladies put their heads together and picked out the model
child of the neighbourhood to come and play with their niece. But
Ariadne Blish was the worst failure of all, for Rose could not bear the
sight of her, and said she was so like a wax doll she longed to give
her a pinch and see if she would squeak. So prim little Ariadne was sent
home, and the exhausted aunties left Rose to her own devices for a day
or two.

Bad weather and a cold kept her in-doors, and she spent most of her time
in the library where her father's books were stored. Here she read a
great deal, cried a little, and dreamed many of the innocent bright
dreams in which imaginative children find such comfort and delight. This
suited her better than anything else, but it was not good for her, and
she grew pale, heavy-eyed and listless, though Aunt Plenty gave her iron
enough to make a cooking-stove, and Aunt Peace petted her like a poodle.

Seeing this, the poor aunties racked their brains for a new amusement
and determined to venture a bold stroke, though not very hopeful of its
success. They said nothing to Rose about their plan for this Saturday
afternoon, but let her alone till the time came for the grand surprise,
little dreaming that the odd child would find pleasure for herself in a
most unexpected quarter.

Before she had time to squeeze out a single tear a sound broke the
stillness, making her prick up her ears. It was only the soft twitter
of a bird, but it seemed to be a peculiarly gifted bird, for while she
listened the soft twitter changed to a lively whistle, then a trill, a
coo, a chirp,