“'Angel of goodness, how shall I requite thee? Interesting moment, with what palpitating emotions art thou fraught!'” And, quoting from the “Mysteries of Udolpho,” he unlocked and opened the drawer with a tragic gesture. “Seven locks of hair in a box, all light, for 'here's your straw color, your orange tawny, your French crown color, and your perfect yellow' Shakespeare. They look very familiar, and I fancy I know the heads they thatched.” “Yes, you all gave me one when I went away, you know, and I carried them round the world with me in that very box.” “I wish the heads had gone too. Here's a jolly little amber god with a gold ring in his back and a most balmy breath,” continued Charlie, taking a long sniff at the scent bottle. “Uncle brought me that long ago, and I'm very fond of it.” “This now looks suspicious man's ring with a lotus cut on the stone and a note attached. I tremble as I ask, who, when, and where?” “A gentleman, on my birthday, in Calcutta.” “I breathe again it was my sire?” “Don't be absurd. Of course it was, and he did everything to make my visit pleasant. I wish you'd go and see him like a dutiful son, instead of idling here.” “That's what Uncle Mac is eternally telling me, but I don't intend to be lectured into the treadmill till I've had my fling first,” muttered Charlie rebelliously. “If you fling yourself in the wrong direction, you may find it hard to get back again,” began Rose gravely. “No fear, if you look after me as you seem to have promised to do, judging by the thanks you get in this note. Poor old governor! I should like to see him, for it's almost four years since he came home last and he must be getting on.” Charlie was the only one of the boys who ever called his father “governor,” perhaps because the others knew and loved their fathers, while he had seen so little of his that the less respectful name came more readily to his lips, since the elder man in truth seemed a governor issuing requests or commands, which the younger too often neglected or resented. Long ago Rose had discovered that Uncle Stephen found home made so distasteful by his wife's devotion to society that he preferred to exile himself, taking business as an excuse for his protracted absences. The girl was thinking of this as she watched her cousin turn the ring about with a sudden sobriety which became him well; and, believing that the moment was propitious, she said earnestly: “He is getting on. Dear Charlie, do think of duty more than pleasure in this case and I'm sure you never will regret it.” “Do you want me to go?” he asked quickly. “I think you ought.” “And I think you'd be much more charming if you wouldn't always be worrying about right and wrong! Uncle Alec taught you that along with the rest of his queer notions.” “I'm glad he did!” cried Rose warmly, then checked herself and said with a patient sort of sigh, “You know women always want the men they care for to be good and can't help trying to make them so.”