“Well, my mannikin, what do you think of us?” asked Rose, to break an awkward pause. “You've both grown so pretty, I can't decide which I like best. Phebe is the biggest and brightest-looking, and I was always fond of Phebe, but somehow you are so kind of sweet and precious, I really think I must hug you again,” and the small youth did it tempestuously. “If you love me best, I shall not mind a bit about your thinking Phebe the handsomest, because she is. Isn't she, boys?” asked Rose, with a mischievous look at the gentlemen opposite, whose faces expressed a respectful admiration which much amused her. “I'm so dazzled by the brilliancy and beauty that has suddenly burst upon me, I have no words to express my emotions,” answered Charlie, gallantly dodging the dangerous question. “I can't say yet, for I have not had time to look at anyone. I will now, if you don't mind.” And, to the great amusement of the rest, Mac gravely adjusted his eyeglasses and took an observation. “Well?” said Phebe, smiling and blushing under his honest stare, yet seeming not to resent it as she did the lordly sort of approval which made her answer the glance of Charlie's audacious blue eyes with a flash of her black ones. “I think if you were my sister, I should be very proud of you, because your face shows what I admire more than its beauty truth and courage, Phebe,” answered Mac with a little bow full of such genuine respect that surprise and pleasure brought a sudden dew to quench the fire of the girl's eyes and soothe the sensitive pride of the girl's heart. Rose clapped her hands just as she used to do when anything delighted her, and beamed at Mac approvingly as she said: “Now that's a criticism worth having, and we are much obliged. I was sure you'd admire my Phebe when you knew her, but I didn't believe you would be wise enough to see it at once, and you have gone up many pegs in my estimation, I assure you.” “I was always fond of mineralogy you remember, and I've been tapping round a good deal lately, so I've learned to know precious metals when I see them,” Mac said with his shrewd smile. “That is the latest hobby, then? Your letters have amused us immensely, for each one had a new theory or experiment, and the latest was always the best. I thought Uncle would have died of laughter over the vegetarian mania it was so funny to imagine you living on bread and milk, baked apples, and potatoes roasted in your own fire,” continued Rose, changing the subject again. “This old chap was the laughingstock of his class. They called him Don Quixote, and the way he went at windmills of all sorts was a sight to see,” put in Charlie, evidently feeling that Mac had been patted on the head quite as much as was good for him.