Old Rose and Silver | Page 5

Royal Canton cup. She and Rose stood
for half an hour after dinner, always.
Isabel finished her coffee and set the cup upon the table. She slipped
the Sheffield tray from under the embroidered doily and took it to the
light, where she leaned over it, studying the design. Rose thought that
the light from the tray was reflected upon the girl's face, she became at
once so brilliant, so sparkling.
"Speaking of harmony--" said Madame Bernard, in a low tone,
glancing at Rose and inclining her head toward Isabel.
"Yes," replied Isabel, returning the tray to its place; "it is a lovely one,
isn't it?"
Madame turned toward the window to hide a smile. Rose followed, and
drew the little grey lady into the circle of her strong arm.
"Dear Aunt Francesca!" she said softly. "I thank you so much!"
The older woman patted the hand that wore the ruby, then turned to
Isabel. "Come," she said, "and be glad you're indoors."
The three women stood at the wide window, looking out across the
snow, lighted only by the stars and a ghostly crescent of moon. The
evergreens were huddled closely together as though they kept each

other warm. Beyond, the mountains brooded in their eternal sleep,
which riving lightnings and vast, reverberating thunders were
powerless to change.
Suddenly, across the purple darkness between the pale stars, flamed a
meteor--an uncharted voyager through infinite seas of space. It left a
trail of fire across the heavens, fading at last into luminous mist, the
colour of the stars. When the light had quite died out, Madame Bernard
spoke.
"A passing soul," she sighed.
"A kiss," breathed Rose, dreamily.
"Star-dust!" laughed Isabel.

II
WELCOME HOME
Great news, my dears, great news!" cried Madame Bernard, gaily
waving an open letter as she came into the room where Rose was
sewing and Isabel experimenting with a new coiffure. "I'll give you
three guesses!"
"Somebody coming for a visit?" asked Isabel.
"Wrong!"
"Somebody coming, but not for a visit?" queried Rose.
"You're getting warmer."
"How can anybody come, if not for a visit?" inquired Isabel, mildly
perplexed. "That is, unless it's a messenger?"
"The old Kent house is to be opened," said Madame, "and we're to open

it. At last we shall have neighbours!"
"How exciting," Rose answered. She did not wholly share the old lady's
pleasure, and wondered with a guilty consciousness of the long hours
she spent at her music, whether Aunt Francesca had been lonely.
"Listen, girls!" Madame's cheeks were pink with excitement as she sat
down with the letter, which had been written in Paris.
"MY DEAR MADAME FRANCESCA:
"'At last we are coming home--Allison and I. The boy has a fancy to
see Spring come again on his native heath, so we shall sail earlier than
we had otherwise planned.
"'I wonder, my dear friend, if I dare ask you to open the house for us? I
am so tired of hotels that I want to go straight back. You have the keys
and if you will engage the proper number of servants and see that the
place is made habitable, I shall be more than ever your debtor. I will
cable you when we start.
"'Trusting that all is well with you and yours and with many thanks,
believe me, my dear Madame,
"'Most faithfully yours,
"'RICHARD KENT.'"
"How like a man," smiled Rose. "That house has been closed for over
ten years, and he thinks there is nothing to be done but to unlock the
front door and engage two or three servants who may or may not be
trustworthy."
"What an imposition!" Isabel said. "Aunt Francesca, didn't I meet
Allison Kent when I was here before?"
"I've forgotten."
"Don't you remember? Mother brought me here once when I was a

little tot. We stayed about a week and the roses were all in bloom. I can
see the garden now. Allison used to come over sometimes and tell me
fairy stories. He told me that the long, slender gold-trimmed bottles
filled with attar of roses came from the roots of the rose bushes--don't
you remember? And I pulled up rose bushes all over the garden to find
out."
"Dear me, yes," smiled Aunt Francesca. "How time does fly!"
"You were very cross with Allison--that is, as cross as you ever could
be. It seemed so queer for you to be angry at him and not at me, for I
pulled up the bushes."
"You were sufficiently punished, Isabel. I believe the thorns hurt your
little hands, didn't they?"
"They certainly did," responded the girl, with a little shudder at the
recollection. "I have a scar still. That was--let me see--why, it was
fifteen years ago!"
"Just before I came to live with Aunt Francesca," said Rose. "You and