Chriss's impetuous young voice roused Mildred from her reverie. Chriss's eager footsteps, her shrill tone, broke in upon the stillness, driving the gossamer threads of fancy hither and thither by the very impetus of youthful noise and movement. Mildred's folded hands dropped apart--she turned soft bewildered looks on the girl. 'What has come? I do not understand you,' she said, with a little laugh at her own bewilderment. 'Aunt Milly, what are you thinking about? are you asleep or dreaming?' demanded Chriss, indignantly; 'why the book--Olive's book, to be sure.' 'Has it come? My dear Chriss, how you startled me; if you had knocked, it would have been different, but bursting in upon me like that.' 'One can't knock for ever,' grumbled Chriss, in an aggrieved voice. 'Of course I thought you were asleep this hot afternoon; but to see you sitting smiling to yourself, Aunt Milly, in that aggravating way and not understanding when one speaks.' 'Hush! I understand you now,' returned Mildred, colouring; 'one gets thinking sometimes, and----' 'Your thoughts must have been miles off, then,' retorted Chriss, with an inquisitive glance that seemed to embarrass Mildred, 'if it took you all that time to travel to the surface. Polly told me to fetch you, because tea is ready, and then the books came--such a big parcel!--and Olive's hand shook so that she could not undo the knots, and so she cut the string, and Cardie scolded her.' 'It was not much of a scolding, I expect.' 'Quite enough to bring Mr. Marsden to the rescue. "How can you presume to reprimand a poetess," he said, quite seriously; you should have heard Dr. John laugh. Look here, he has sent you these roses, Aunt Milly,' drawing from under her little silk apron a delicious bouquet of roses and maidenhair fern. A pretty pink colour came into Mildred's cheeks. 'What beautiful roses! He must have remembered it was my birthday; how kind of him, Chriss. I must come down and thank him.' 'You must wear some in honour of the occasion--do, Aunt Milly; this deep crimson one will look so pretty on your gray silk dress; and you must put on the silver locket, with the blue velvet, that we all gave you.' 'Nonsense,' returned Mildred, blushing; but Chriss was inexorable. Dr. Heriot looked up for the minute fairly startled when Mildred came in with her pink cheeks and her roses. Chriss's artful fingers, bent on mischief, had introduced a bud among the thick braids; the pretty brown hair looked unusually soft and glossy; the rarely seen dimple was in full play. 'You have done honour to my roses, I see,' he said, as Mildred thanked him, somewhat shyly, and joined the group round Olive. The drawing-room table was heaped over with the new-smelling, little green volumes. As Mildred approached, Olive held out one limp soft copy with a hand that shook perceptibly. 'It has come at last, and on your birthday too; I am so glad,' she whispered as Mildred kissed her.