"Better, my child, much better! You are not rough; your hands are dainty as well as strong. Thank you, child," said Mr. Rockharrt, settling himself with a jerk or two into his spring overcoat. "Oh, do let me perform these little services for you always! It will make me feel so happy!" "But it will give you trouble." "Oh, indeed, no! not the least! It will give me only pleasure." "You are a very good child, but I will not tax you. Good morning! I must be off," said Mr. Rockharrt, shaking hands with Rose, and then hurrying out to get into his carriage. Rose stood in the door looking after him, until the brougham rolled away out of sight. At luncheon Rose Stillwater seemed so determined to be pleasant that it was next to impossible for Cora Rothsay to keep up the formal demeanor she had laid out for herself. "It is very lonely for you here, my dear. How soon does your grandfather usually return? I know he must have been later than usual last night, because he had to go to the depot to meet me," Rose said. "Mr. Rockharrt usually returns at six o'clock. We have dinner at half-past," replied Cora. "And this is two! Four hours and a half yet!" "The afternoon is very fine. Will you take a walk with me in the garden?" inquired Cora, as they left the dining room, feeling some compunction for the persistent coldness with which she had treated her most gentle and obliging guest. "Oh, thank you very much, dear. With the greatest pleasure! It will be just like old times, when we used to walk in the garden together, you a little child holding on to my hand. And now--But we won't talk of that," said Rose. And she fled up stairs to get her hat and shawl. And the two women sauntered for half an hour among the early roses and spring flowers in the beautiful Rockhold garden. Then they came in and went to the library together and looked over the new magazines. Presently Cora said: "We all use the library in common to write our letters in. If you have letters to write, you will find every convenience in either of those side tables at the windows." "Yes. Just as it used to be in the old times when I was so happy here! When the dear old lady was here! Ah, me! But I will not think of that. She is in heaven, as sure as there is a heaven for angels such as she, and we must not grieve for the sainted ones. But I have no letters to write, dear. I have no correspondents in all the world. Indeed, dear Cora, I have no friend in the world outside of this house," said Rose, with a little sigh that touched Cora's heart, compelling her to sympathize with this lonely creature, even against her better judgment. "Is not Mr. Fabian friendly toward you?" inquired Cora, from mixed motives--of half pity, half irony.