She started, and for an instant looked at him with wide open eyes; then they faltered and fell. Her breath came in a frightened, surprised gasp and her cheeks grew warm. When she looked up again, her eyes were soft and pleading, and her lips trembled ever so slightly. "Yes, Daddy Crow, I love him," she almost whispered. "An' him? How about him?" "I can't answer that, daddy. He has not told me." "Well, he ought to, doggone him!" "I could not permit him to do so if he tried." "What! You wouldn't permit? What in tarnation do you mean?" "You forget, daddy, I have no right to his love. It would be wrong--all wrong. Good-night, daddy," she cried, impulsively kissing him and dashing away before he could check her, but not before he caught the sound of a half sob. For a long time he sat and stared at the fire in the grate. Then he slapped his knee vigorously, squared his shoulders and set his jaw like a vise. Arising, he stalked upstairs and tapped on her door. She opened it an inch or two and peered forth at him--a pathetic figure in white. "Don't you worry, Rosalie," he gulped. "It will be all right and hunky dory. I've just took a solemn oath down stairs." "An oath, daddy?" "Yes, sir; I swore by all that's good and holy I'd find out who your parents are ef it took till doomsday. You shall be set right in the eyes of everybody. Now, if I was you, I'd go right to sleep. There ain't nothin' to worry about. I've got another clew." She smiled lovingly as he ambled away. Poor old Anderson's confidence in himself was only exceeded by his great love for her. At last June smiled upon Rosalie and she was off for Boston. Her gowns were from Albany and her happiness from heaven--according to a reverential Tinkletown impression. For two weeks after her departure, Anderson Crow talked himself hoarse into willing ears, always extolling the beauty of his erstwhile ward as she appeared before the family circle in each and every one of those wonderful gowns. This humble narrative has not to do with the glories and foibles of Boston social life. It has to deal with the adventures of Anderson Crow and Rosalie Gray in so far as they pertain to a place called Tinkletown. The joys and pleasures that Rosalie experienced during that month of June were not unusual in character. The loneliness of Anderson Crow was not a novelty, if one stops to consider how the world revolves for every one else. Suffice to say that the Bonners, _mère, fils_ and _fille_, exerted themselves to make the month an unforgetable one to the girl--and they succeeded. The usual gaiety, the same old whirl of experiences, came to her that come to any other mortal who is being entertained, fêted and admired. She was a success--a pleasure in every way--not only to her hosts but to herself. If there was a cloud hanging over her head through all these days and nights, the world was none the wiser; the silver lining was always visible.