yesterday," cried Rose, waking up suddenly.

"And who is Phebe, if you please?"

Rose eagerly told all she knew, and Uncle Alec listened, with an
odd smile lurking about his mouth, though his eyes were quite
sober as he watched the face before him.

"I'm glad to see that you are not aristocratic in your tastes, but I
don't quite make out why you like this young lady from the
poor-house."

"You may laugh at me, but I do. I can't tell why, only she seems so
happy and busy, and sings so beautifully, and is strong enough to
scrub and sweep, and hasn't any troubles to plague her," said Rose,
making a funny jumble of reasons in her efforts to explain.

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I was telling her about mine, and asked if she had any, and
she said, 'No, only I'd like to go to school, and I mean to some
day."

"So she doesn't call desertion, poverty, and hard work, troubles?
She's a brave little girl, and I shall be proud to know her." And
Uncle Alec gave an approving nod, that made Rose wish she had
been the one to earn it.

"But what are these troubles of yours, child?" he asked, after a
minute of silence.