“As you like. I won't trouble you much anyway, for I'm going to be very busy. May go to L this winter, if Uncle thinks best, and then my 'originality' can't annoy you.” “I hope you won't go. Why, Mac, I'm just getting to know and enjoy you, and thought we'd have a nice time this winter reading something together. Must you go?” And Rose seemed to forget his strangeness, as she held him still by one button while she talked. “That would be nice. But I feel as if I must go my plans are all made, and I've set my heart on it,” answered Mac, looking so eager that Rose released him, saying sadly: “I suppose it is natural for you all to get restless and push off, but it is hard for me to let you go one after the other and stay here alone. Charlie is gone, Archie and Steve are wrapped up in their sweethearts, the boys away, and only Jamie left to 'play with Rose.'? “But I'll come back, and you'll be glad I went if I bring you my--” began Mac with sudden animation, then stopped abruptly to bite his lips, as if he had nearly said too much. “Your what?” asked Rose curiously, for he neither looked nor acted like himself. “I forgot how long it takes to get a diploma,” he said, walking away again. “There will be one comfort if you go you'll see Phebe and can tell me all about her, for she is so modest, she doesn't half do it. I shall want to know how she gets on, if she is engaged to sing ballads in the concerts they talk of for next winter. You will write, won't you?” “Oh, yes! No doubt of that,” and Mac laughed low to himself as he stooped to look at the little Psyche on the mantelpiece. “What a pretty thing it is!” he added soberly as he took it up. “Be careful. Uncle gave it to me last New Year, and I'm very fond of it. She is just lifting her lamp to see what Cupid is like, for she hasn't seen him yet,” said Rose, busy putting her worktable in order. “You ought to have a Cupid for her to look at. She has been waiting patiently a whole year, with nothing but a bronze lizard in sight,” said Mac with the half-shy, half-daring look which was so new and puzzling. “Cupid fled away as soon as she woke him, you know, and she had a bad time of it. She must wait longer till she can find and keep him.” “Do you know she looks like you? Hair tied up in a knot, and a spiritual sort of face. Don't you see it?” asked Mac, turning the graceful little figure toward her. “Not a bit of it. I wonder whom I shall resemble next! I've been compared to a Fra Angelico angel, Saint Agnes, and now 'Syke,' as Annabel once called her.” “You'd see what I mean, if you'd ever watched your own face when you were listening to music, talking earnestly, or much moved, then your soul gets into your eyes and you are like Psyche.” “Tell me the next time you see me in a 'soulful' state, and I'll look in the glass, for I'd like to see if it is becoming,” said Rose merrily as she sorted her gay worsteds.