“Stay with you—my _dear_?” The little woman stood stock-still, the dress skirt she was about to put on, in her hand. “Yes,—keep house for me in Boston.” “Why, Lavinia, it would be _heaven_—but, how _can_ I!” “Why can’t you? It is only to give up a few rooms in somebody else’s house. You’re quite alone.” “I suppose I am,” replied Lavinia slowly, “but somehow I never realize it.” What a wealth of implication lay in the simple words! Mrs. Bruce could not appreciate that, but she persisted in her plan, which had been gradually taking form for days. A capable, useful, refined admirer was what her beaten and dependent soul yearned for. Tears dimmed Lavinia’s eyes when at last she accepted the offer. “Laura!” she exclaimed, with touching sincerity, “you have been planning this beautiful thing for me! _That_ is why Irving brought me here. Dear Irving, always so courteous, he has been, to your relatives! Dear Laura, when do you _ever_ take time to think of yourself!” * * * * * One day in the second week in September, Betsy stood by a window in her cottage and saw Rosalie, in hat and street dress, enter the garden. She watched the girl unnoticed, and saw her turn and look seaward. Clouds were scudding along the sky, and swallows circling against the strong breeze. Presently Rosalie came up the path. Betsy threw open the door. “Welcome home!” she said, and embraced her. “I’m the most fortunate girl in the world,” declared Rosalie. Betsy took the bag she carried. “Let me show you your room,” she said. With happy pride she led the guest up the narrow stairs, and ushered her into a comfortable little bower, hung in white dimity. Rosalie turned, and gave her hostess another hug. “Why should you be so good to me?” she exclaimed. “Because you’re all the little girl I’ve got,” returned Betsy. “See what a nice cozy corner that makes for your trunk!” Rosalie regarded her affectionately. “I have the greatest news for you,” she said. “I can only stay two days.” “Answers to the advertisement, eh?” asked Betsy with interest. “Better than that! How wonderfully good people are! Mr. Derwent actually went to Portland weeks ago, and managed somehow, so that yesterday I received a summons from the Moore School to come and take up my work there. It seems that some of the faculty have heard me at the inn, and it’s settled, practically.” “All the better, child. Cap’n Salter and I’d never get tired o’ havin’ you here, but you wouldn’t be satisfied with an idle winter in Fairport. Come in my room and sit down for a chat. I’m doin’ some mendin’, and we can settle all the affairs o’ the nation.” Rosalie followed into the front room, and seated herself by a low window looking out on the gray billows. “Good-by, summer,” she said, as if to herself. Betsy glanced at her and sat down by the bed where were scattered articles of clothing. “The swallows are making them ready to fly, Wheeling out on a windy sky—”