Being gratified, he spread himself upon the couch, crossed his legs in the air, and without another word dived Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, where he remained for two mortal hours, to the general satisfaction of his relatives. Bereft both of her unexpected playfellow and the much desired book, Rose went into the parlor, there to discover a French novel which Kitty had taken from a library and left in the carriage among the bundles. Settling herself in her favorite lounging chair, she read as diligently as Jamie while the wind howled and snow fell fast without. For an hour nothing disturbed the cozy quiet of the house for Aunt Plenty was napping upstairs and Dr. Alec writing in his own sanctum; at least Rose thought so, till his step made her hastily drop the book and look up with very much the expression she used to wear when caught in mischief years ago. “Did I startle you? Have a screen you are burning your face before this hot fire.” And Dr. Alec pulled one forward. “Thank you, Uncle. I didn't feel it.” And the color seemed to deepen in spite of the screen while the uneasy eyes fell upon the book in her lap. “Have you got the Quarterly there? I want to glance at an article in it if you can spare it for a moment,” he said, leaning toward her with an inquiring glance. “No, sir, I am reading.” And, without mentioning the name, Rose put the book into his hand. The instant his eye fell on the title he understood the look she wore and knew what “mischief” she had been in. He knit his brows, then smiled, because it was impossible to help it Rose looked so conscience-stricken in spite of her twenty years. “How do you find it? Interesting?” “Oh, very! I felt as if I was in another world and forgot all about this.” “Not a very good world, I fancy, if you were afraid or ashamed to be found in it. Where did this come from?” asked Dr. Alec, surveying the book with great disfavor. Rose told him, and added slowly, “I particularly wanted to read it, and fancied I might, because you did when it was so much talked about the winter we were in Rome.” “I did read it to see if it was fit for you.” “And decided that it was not, I suppose, since you never gave it to me!” “Yes.” “Then I won't finish it. But, Uncle, I don't see why I should not,” added Rose wistfully, for she had reached the heart of the romance and found it wonderfully fascinating. “You may not see, but don't you feel why not?” asked Dr. Alec gravely. Rose leaned her flushed cheek on her hand and thought a minute, then looked up and answered honestly, “Yes, I do, but can't explain it, except that I know something must be wrong, because I blushed and started when you came in.” “Exactly.” And the doctor gave an emphatic nod, as if the symptoms pleased him. “But I really don't see any harm in the book so far. It is by a famous author, wonderfully well written, as you know, and the characters so lifelike that I feel as if I should really meet them somewhere.”