“Mebbe he is, an’ mebbe he ain’t!” said Aunt Hannah grudgingly; “dese men folks allus waits on a pretty girl, honey, but I ’lows he’d cheat yo’ jest de same; I’se got my eye on him sure!” “I wish you’d take off your bonnet and get my trunk open,” retorted Rose good naturedly; “then we’ll see if we can put the concierge in it--if he misbehaves!” “My sakes, honey, I done clean forgot ter gib yo’ dis letter; it’s a telegram, I reckon; it come jest befo’ de fire broke out, an’ I’se been settin’ on it ter keep it safe.” It was a cablegram, and Rose stretched out an eager hand for it, with a thrill of anticipation; it seemed as if her father must be reaching out to her across the seas, that he already knew and rejoiced with her for, surely, all his prejudices would dissolve at the assurance of her success. She opened it with trembling fingers, a smile on her lips. It fluttered and fell to the floor; it was a cablegram to summon her home, the judge was very ill. IX AFTERWARDS Rose never quite knew how she endured the voyage home. Her love for her father was so deep, so tender, they were so bound together by a hundred ties not only of affection but of sympathy and tastes and interests, that the very thought of losing him almost broke her down. It took both Cousin Emily Carter and old black Aunt Hannah to comfort and sustain her during those ten days. But when she reached Washington Allestree met her at the station with good tidings; the judge was out of danger. He had been very near death and came back slowly from the Valley of the Shadow. However, he had come back and Rose knelt beside his bed and cried her heart out with joy to feel his arm around her. How pale and thin and wasted he looked. He had aged so much; poor Rose, she saw it and forced a smile to disguise it even to herself. But he was unaware of the shock which the sight of him gave her, and he forgot his illness in his eager interest in her account of Paris and her final success. She told him very little of those long months of struggle and depression, of the thousand little pinches and trials that they had been through to keep from asking an extra penny from him. After Rose came the judge began to mend more rapidly; old Mrs. Allestree said he had only been pining away for the child, but she knew better, being a wise old woman. She knew that the judge had been struggling all the year to stave off the foreclosure of the mortgage on the old house which he and Rose loved so well. She knew, too, that he had almost failed when that mysterious arrangement was made for him by an unknown party; the message came that the mortgage had been taken up, and he could have all the time he wanted and at a lower rate of interest.