Below her lay the still sleeping city. Snow covered the untenanted portions of the Fens, and hid its ugly nakedness with a soft mantle, which seemed to hold a silken sheen, as the first flush of morning touched it. How strange all her surroundings appeared. Gone was the far sweeping expanse of forest-clad mountain side, stretching off to the sunrise; in its place lay a level space closed in by substantial buildings of marble, granite and brick--the Art Museum, Latin School and clustered hospitals,--their walls changing from ghostly gray to growing rose and gold. She drew a comfortable dressing gown--the gift of her new friend--about her girlish form, and sat down by the window in the familiar posture with her chin on her cupped hands. By Miss Merriman's description of the view which the window gave upon she recognized the creamy brick building of the Children's Hospital, snuggled like a gentle sister by the side of the impressive marble walls of its big brother, the Harvard Medical School, and, as the light grew and gave definition to its outlines, she felt as though it were actually drawing nearer to her. In imagination she went to meet it; she entered its doors and took her place among those who toiled there with loving hearts and skillful hands; and thus Miss Merriman found her, half an hour later, when she, similarly clad, came to bid her little guest good morning. With silent understanding, which is born of true companionship, she drew the girl into her arms. "I'm not going to let you do a single thing but rest this morning," she said at length. "You look pale and tired still--like a very white rose--and I want you to appear your very sweetest when you go to meet Dr. MacDonald's family this afternoon, dear. Come, let's decide what you shall wear. The black silk that we bought in New York?" Smiles hesitated. "I think that ... would it be all right if I wore that pretty white woollen one?" "Why, yes, if you like, but it is very plain and simple." "And so am I," laughed Rose a bit unsteadily. "I want them to see me just as I am, and ... Oh, how I hope that they will like me!" "Never fear. They will," answered Miss Merriman, giving her a reassuring kiss. Nevertheless, it was a very quiet and timid Smiles who sat beside Donald in his coupe at four that afternoon, as he drove to the richly sombre home on Beacon Street, where had dwelt many generations of Thayers. He, too, although he attempted to be jovial, was strangely uneasy. "You chump!" he said to himself. "You're more disturbed about whether this child will make a good impression, than you would be over performing a major operation. Supposing that Ethel _doesn't_ go wild about her, what of it?"