"Well, my child--what is it?" said the kind voice she had learned to love devotedly. Mrs. Mowbray was arranging some of the displaced books in the bookcases, and spoke with only a fleeting glance at the person approaching her, to see who it was. "May I speak to you, madame?" "Yes--speak. What is it?" "I do not know how to say what I want to say." "Straight out, my child. Straight out is best. What is the matter?" "Nothing, with me, madame. But--if it would not give too much trouble--I thought I would like it very much if I could be put in another room." "Sleeping room?" "Yes, ma'am." "Why?"--Mrs. Mowbray's quick hands were busy all the while she was talking; putting up and pulling down. Rotha hesitated. "Madame, before I answer I should like to ask another question. What ought I to do if I see something done which you have forbidden?" A quick sharp glance came her way now. "What have you seen?" "That is just what I do not know whether I ought to tell you. I thought, perhaps it would be the best way for me to go where I could not see it." "Why?" said Mrs. Mowbray dryly. "Then I should not be sharing the wrong. I suppose, more than that is not my affair. I am afraid it would be troublesome to move me." "Any change is troublesome in a house like this," the lady answered; and Rotha stood still, not knowing how to go on. Mrs. Mowbray stepped up on the library steps to arrange some books on the upper shelves; and till she came down she did not speak again. "You are quite right to mention no names and give no stories," she said then. "I always doubt an informer. And you are quite right also in refusing to countenance what is wrong. I will give you another room, my dear." She took Rotha in her arms and kissed her repeatedly. "Have I found a friend?" she said. "You, madame?" said Rotha. "I cannot do anything for _you;_ but you have done everything for me." "You can give me love and truth that is all we any of us can give to one another, isn't it? The ways of shewing may be different.--Where are you going to spend the holidays?" she said with a change of tone. "I don't know, madame. I have not thought about it." "Will you spend them with me?" Joy flamed up in Rotha's eyes and lips and cheeks. "O madame!--if I may." "I expect half a dozen of the young ladies will stay with me. Here is a note that came for you, from your aunt." She gave Rotha an open note to read. It contained the request that Rotha might spend the time between Christmas and New Year's Day at her house, but not those days. Rotha read and looked up. "Write," said Mrs. Mowbray, "and say to your aunt that I have invited you and that you have accepted the invitation, for the whole holidays." The smile and the glance of her sweet eye were bewitching. Rotha felt as if she could have stooped down and kissed her very garments. CHAPTER XVII. BAGS AND BIBLES.