history."

"Sad?" The sudden poignancy of the question startled Rose.

She looked quickly at her to note if she were as earnest as her voice
sounded. The dark eyes smiled daringly, defiantly at her.

"I am no sorceress," she answered evasively but lightly; "look in the glass
and see."

"You remind me of Floy Tyrrell. Pooh! Let us talk of something else.
Then it can't be Wednesdays?"

"It can be any day. The Page children can have Friday."

"Do you know how Mr. Page is?"

"Did you not hear of the great operations he--Dr. Kemp--performed Friday?"

"No." She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush of
blood that overspread her face. If Rose saw, she made no sign; she had had
one lesson.

"I did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving Miss Dora
a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two little ones in
there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. One of the
doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very delicate and
dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slipped quietly out; I was
passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out of one of the rooms.
He was quite pale. He recognized me immediately; and though I wished to