Now, what to do for Rose.

Rose had written warm congratulations to her sister, without mentioning
any desire for a personal interview. Ever since her marriage, she had
refrained from giving invitations to her family, leaving the initiative
in social matters to them--a mark of consideration and good taste on
her part which they had quite approved of; and intercourse had been
limited to afternoon calls, more or less affectionate and informal, but
stopping short at meals in common under the roof of either party. Now,
however, Deb craved for a fuller sympathy with the sweetest-tempered
and kindest-hearted of her sisters, and now it seemed so perfectly easy
to go to her house in pursuit of it. She despatched an impulsive note:

"DEAREST,--I want a quiet talk with you about all that has happened.
May I come to lunch tomorrow, so as to make a long afternoon of it? If
not convenient, fix a day to lunch with me; but I am not so tied as you
are, and besides, I should like to have Peter's advice on one or two
little matters of business, if it would not bother him--of course,
after he comes from town. Don't keep him at home on purpose."

To which Rose replied by telegram:

"Shall expect you early tomorrow for a long day. Peter
delighted to place himself at your disposal."

So Deb set off next morning, full of benevolent intentions, to gather
poor humdrum Rose and her (in his way) truly worthy husband into the
sphere of her golden prosperity. Also, incidentally, to warm herself in
the light of faithful and familiar eyes. Since her final dismissal of