“I'm all dressed, so I don't need any help. I hope that is good and strong,” added Rose, eyeing the steaming cup with an eager look. But she did not get it, for a brown hand took possession of it as her uncle said quickly, “Hold hard, my lass, and let me overhaul that dose before you take it. Do you drink all this strong coffee every morning, Rose?” “Yes, sir, and I like it. Auntie says it 'tones' me up, and I always feel better after it.” “This accounts for the sleepless nights, the flutter your heart gets into at the least start, and this is why that cheek of yours is pale yellow instead of rosy red. No more coffee for you, my dear, and by and by you'll see that I am right. Any new milk downstairs, Phebe?” “Yes, sir, plenty right in from the barn.” “That's the drink for my patient. Go bring me a pitcherful, and another cup; I want a draught myself. This won't hurt the honeysuckles, for they have no nerves to speak of.” And, to Rose's great discomfort, the coffee went after the medicine. Dr. Alec saw the injured look she put on, but took no notice, and presently banished it by saying pleasantly, “I've got a capital little cup among my traps, and I'll give it to you to drink your milk in, as it is made of wood that is supposed to improve whatever is put into it something like a quassia cup. That reminds me; one of the boxes Phebe wanted to lug upstairs last night is for you. Knowing that I was coming home to find a ready-made daughter, I picked up all sorts of odd and pretty trifles along the way, hoping she would be able to find something she liked among them all. Early to-morrow we'll have a grand rummage. Here's our milk! I propose the health of Miss Rose Campbell and drink it with all my heart.” It was impossible for Rose to pout with the prospect of a delightful boxful of gifts dancing before her eyes; so, in spite of herself, she smiled as she drank her own health, and found that fresh milk was not a hard dose to take. “Now I must be off, before I am caught again with my wig in a toss,” said Dr. Alec, preparing to descend the way he came. “Do you always go in and out like a cat, uncle?” asked Rose, much amused at his odd ways. “I used to sneak out of my window when I was a boy, so I need not disturb the aunts, and now I rather like it, for it's the shortest road, and it keeps me limber when I have no rigging to climb. Good-bye till breakfast.” And away he went down the water-spout, over the roof, and vanished among the budding honey-suckles below. “Ain't he a funny guardeen?” exclaimed Phebe, as she went off with the cups. “He is a very kind one, I think,” answered Rose, following, to prowl round the big boxes and try to guess which was hers. When her uncle appeared at sound of the bell, he found her surveying with an anxious face a new dish that smoked upon the table. “Got a fresh trouble, Rosy?” he asked, stroking her smooth head. “Uncle, are you going to make me eat oatmeal?” asked Rose, in a tragic tone.