But—the thought came later, in a flash—it could still be with me: if somewhere else! Somewhere where her story was not known. Why should I live all my days in one spot? It is true that I was devoted to it; but ought one to be so local, so parochial? It was a not too admirable line of least resistance. Here was the great world open to me, and I had cowered all my days in one corner. Mrs. O’Gorman had twitted me about it; and she was a wise woman. How helpful she would be to-day! I had a few years left, I hoped—why should I not move to London or—or anywhere? Then Rose and I could be happy together, once more, and the other Rose could have a room always ready for her. How gay we might all yet be! But probably to join me again would not be the mother’s wish. She might prefer to be alone; she might fear that her melancholy would weigh upon me. All day long as I moved about London, and even as I turned over the portfolios, I was picturing the drama in my house, a house that possibly I was to leave for ever. Rose-the-less, white and tense, passionately, bitterly determined to be her mother’s companion; her mother gently but firmly refusing to come into her life. And how would these scenes end? Would the girl lose all control, and accepting the repudiation rush angrily off? Might she not indeed be even now in London? Or would the mother acquiesce? Which was the weaker? I could not tell. And what did they say of me? They might even fall out over me, each claiming a bigger share of their poor old foster-father. And, in the absence of Mrs. O’Gorman, no Solomon to consult! Perhaps I ought not to have come away after all? The journey back was an agony, even with some purchases to gloat over, and my nervousness increased as I approached the house. What should I find? Would both be there? Would either? * * * * * I should have been more trustful of the kindly gods. For Rose and Rose were waiting for me at the door, smiling at me and at each other. Whatever solution they had reached satisfied both. I could see that in a flash, and seeing that, I was happy. * * * * * “Rose and I,” said Rose-the-first, later that evening when we were all cosy, “have had a great talk, haven’t we?” “Tremendous,” said Rose, laying her hand on her mother’s and stroking it. “And we’ve decided that nothing must interfere with Rose’s plans to become an artist.” “You decided, you mean,” said Rose-the-second. “We’ve decided,” her mother repeated, “and so Rose is going off almost directly to her Hostel, just as if no ghost had frightened her.” “O mother!” said Rose reproachfully. “And I’m going too,” Rose-the-first continued. “Both going?” I exclaimed in alarm. “Only to find a house,” she went on. “A house?” “Yes, I’ve only one desire in the world, and that is to have a house, and the reason I want a house is to be able to invite a guest.” She paused a moment.