When Rose came out of her chamber, cup in hand, next morning, the first person she saw was Uncle Alec standing on the threshold of the room opposite, which he appeared to be examining with care. When he heard her step, he turned about and began to sing,

“Where are you going, my pretty maid?”

“I'm going a-milking, sir, she said,” answered Rose, waving the cup; and then they finished the verse together in fine style.

Before either spoke, a head, in a nightcap so large and beruffled that it looked like a cabbage, popped out of a room farther down the hall, and an astonished voice exclaimed,

“What in the world are you doing about so early?”

“Clearing our pipes for the day, ma'am. Look here, auntie, can I have this room?” said Dr. Alec, making her a sailor's bow.

“Any room you like, except sister's.”

“Thanks. And may I go rummaging round in the garrets and glory-holes to furnish it as I like?”

“My dear boy, you may turn the house upside down if you will only stay in it.”

“That's a handsome offer, I'm sure. I'll stay, ma'am; here's my little anchor, so you will get more than you want of me this time.”

“That's impossible! Put on your jacket, Rose. Don't tire her out with antics, Alec. Yes, sister, I'm coming!” and the cabbage vanished suddenly.

The first milking lesson was a droll one; but after several scares and many vain attempts, Rose at last managed to fill her cup, while Ben held Clover's tail so that it could not flap, and Dr. Alec kept her from turning to stare at the new milkmaid, who objected to both these proceedings very much.

“You look chilly in spite of all this laughing. Take a smart run round the garden and get up a glow,” said the doctor, as they left the barn.

“I'm too old for running, uncle; Miss Power said it was not lady-like for girls in their teens,” answered Rose, primly.

“I take the liberty of differing from Madame Prunes and Prisms, and, as your physician, I order you to run. Off with you!” said Uncle Alec, with a look and a gesture that made Rose scurry away as fast as she could go.

Anxious to please him, she raced round the beds till she came back to the porch where he stood, and, dropping down upon the steps, she sat panting, with cheeks as rosy as the rigolette on her shoulders.

“Very well done, child; I see you have not lost the use of your limbs though you are in your teens. That belt is too tight; unfasten it, then you can take a long breath without panting so.”

“It isn't tight, sir; I can breathe perfectly well,” began Rose, trying to compose herself.

Her uncle's only answer was to lift her up and unhook the new belt of which she was so proud. The moment the clasp was open the belt flew apart several inches, for it was impossible to restrain the involuntary sigh of relief that flatly contradicted her words.

“Why, I didn't know it was tight! it didn't feel so a bit. Of course it would open if I puff like this, but I never do, because I hardly ever run,” explained Rose, rather discomfited by this discovery.

“I see you don't half fill your lungs, and so you can wear this absurd thing without feeling it. The idea of cramping a tender little waist in a stiff band of leather and steel just when it ought to be growing,” said Dr. Alec, surveying the belt with great disfavour as he put the clasp forward several holes, to Rose's secret dismay, for she was proud of her slender figure, and daily rejoiced that she wasn't as stout as Luly Miller, a former schoolmate, who vainly tried to repress her plumpness.

“It will fall off if it is so loose,” she said anxiously, as she stood watching him pull her precious belt about.

“Not if you keep taking long breaths to hold it on. That is what I want you to do, and when you have filled this out we will go on enlarging it till your waist is more like that of Hebe, goddess of health, and less like that of a fashion-plate the ugliest thing imaginable.”

“How it does look!” and Rose gave a glance of scorn at the loose belt hanging round her trim little waist. “It will be lost, and then I shall feel badly, for it cost ever so much, and is real steel and Russia leather. Just smell how nice.”

“If it is lost I'll give you a better one. A soft silken sash is much fitter for a pretty child like you than a plated harness like this; and I've got no end of Italian scarfs and Turkish sashes among my traps. Ah! that makes you feel better, doesn't it?” and he pinched the cheek that had suddenly dimpled with a smile.

“It is very silly of me, but I can't help liking to know that” here she stopped and blushed and held down her head, ashamed to add, “you think I am pretty.”

Dr. Alec's eyed twinkled, but he said very soberly,

“Rose, are you vain?”

“I'm afraid I am,” answered a very meek voice from behind the veil of hair that hid the red face.

“That is a sad fault.” And he sighed as if grieved at the confession.

“I know it is, and I try not to be; but people praise me, and I can't help liking it, for I really don't think I am repulsive.”

The last word and the funny tone in which it was uttered were too much for Dr. Alec, and he laughed in spite of himself, to Rose's great relief.

“I quite agree with you; and in order that you may be still less repulsive, I want you to grow as fine a girl as Phebe.”

“Phebe!” and Rose looked so amazed that her uncle nearly went off again.

“Yes, Phebe; for she has what you need health. If you dear little girls would only learn what real beauty is, and not pinch and starve and bleach yourselves out so, you'd save an immense deal of time and money and pain. A happy soul in a healthy body makes the best sort of beauty for man or woman. Do you understand that, my dear?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Rose, much taken down by this comparison with the girl from the poor-house. It nettled her sadly, and she showed that it did by saying quickly,

“I suppose you would like to have me sweep and scrub, and wear an old brown dress, and go round with my sleeves rolled up, as Phebe does?”

“I should very much, if you could work as well as she does, and show as strong a pair of arms as she can. I haven't seen a prettier picture for some time than she made of herself this morning, up to the elbows in suds, singing like a blackbird whilst she scrubbed on the back stoop.”

“Well, I do think you are the queerest man that ever lived!” was all Rose could find to say after this display of bad taste.

“I haven't begun to show you my oddities yet, so you must make up your mind to worse shocks than this,” he said, with such a whimsical look that she was glad the sound of a bell prevented her showing more plainly what a blow her little vanities had already received.

“You will find your box all open up in auntie's parlor, and there you can amuse her and yourself by rummaging to your heart's content; I've got to be cruising round all the morning getting my room to rights,” said Dr. Alec, as they rose from breakfast.

“Can't I help you, uncle?” asked Rose, quite burning to be useful.

“No, thank you, I'm going to borrow Phebe for a while, if Aunt Plenty can spare her.”

“Anybody anything, Alec. You will want me, I know, so I'll give orders about dinner and be all ready to lend a hand”; and the old lady bustled away full of interest and good-will.

“Uncle will find that I can do some things that Phebe can't, so now!” thought Rose, with a toss of the head as she flew to Aunt Peace and the long-desired box.

Every little girl can easily imagine what an extra good time she had diving into a sea of treasures and fishing up one pretty thing after another, till the air was full of the mingled odours of musk and sandalwood, the room gay with bright colours, and Rose in a rapture of delight. She began to forgive Dr. Alec for the oatmeal diet when she saw a lovely ivory workbox; became resigned to the state of her belt when she found a pile of rainbow-coloured sashes; and when she came to some distractingly pretty bottles of attar of rose, she felt that they almost atoned for the great sin of thinking Phebe the finer girl of the two.

Dr. Alec meanwhile had apparently taken Aunt Plenty at her word, and was turning the house upside down. A general revolution was evidently going on in the green-room, for the dark damask curtains were seen bundling away in Phebe's arms; the air-tight stove retiring to the cellar on Ben's shoulder; and the great bedstead going up garret in a fragmentary state, escorted by three bearers. Aunt Plenty was constantly on the trot among her store-rooms, camphor-chests, and linen-closets, looking as if the new order of things both amazed and amused her.

Half the peculiar performances of Dr. Alec cannot be revealed; but as Rose glanced up from her box now and then she caught glimpses of him striding by, bearing a bamboo chair, a pair of ancient andirons, a queer Japanese screen, a rug or two, and finally a large bathing-pan upon his head.

“What a curious room it will be,” she said, as she sat resting and refreshing herself with “Lumps of Delight,” all the way from Cairo.

“I fancy you will like it, deary,” answered Aunt Peace, looking up with a smile from some pretty trifle she was making with blue silk and white muslin.

Rose did not see the smile, for just at that moment her uncle paused at the door, and she sprang up to dance before him, saying, with a face full of childish happiness,

“Look at me! look at me! I'm splendid I don't know myself. I haven't put these things on right, I dare say, but I do like them so much!”

“You look as gay as a parrot in your fez and cabaja, and it does my heart good to see the little black shadow turned into a rainbow,” said Uncle Alec, surveying the bright figure before him with great approbation.

He did not say it, but he thought she made a much prettier picture than Phebe at the wash-tub, for she had stuck a purple fez on her blonde head, tied several brilliant scarfs about her waist, and put on a truly gorgeous scarlet jacket with a golden sun embroidered on the back, a silver moon on the front, and stars of all sizes on the sleeves. A pair of Turkish slippers adorned her feet, and necklaces of amber, coral, and filigree hung about her neck, while one hand held a smelling-bottle, and the other the spicy box of oriental sweetmeats.

“I feel like a girl in the 'Arabian Nights,' and expect to find a magic carpet or a wonderful talisman somewhere. Only I don't see how I ever can thank you for all these lovely things,” she said, stopping her dance, as if suddenly oppressed with gratitude.

“I'll tell you how by leaving off the black clothes, that never should have been kept so long on such a child, and wearing the gay ones I've brought. It will do your spirits good, and cheer up this sober old house. Won't it, auntie?”

“I think you are right, Alec, and it is fortunate that we have not begun on her spring clothes yet, for Myra thought she ought not to wear anything brighter than violet, and she is too pale for that.”

“You just let me direct Miss Hemming how to make some of these things. You will be surprised to see how much I know about piping hems and gathering arm-holes and shirring biases,” began Dr. Alec, patting a pile of muslin, cloth and silk with a knowing air.

Aunt Peace and Rose laughed so that he could not display his knowledge any farther, till they stopped, when he said good-naturedly,

“That will go a great way toward filling out the belt, so laugh away, Morgiana, and I'll go back to my work, or I never shall be done.”

“I couldn't help it, 'shirred biases' were so very funny!” Rose said, as she turned to her box after the splendid laugh. “But really, auntie,” she added soberly, “I feel as if I ought not to have so many nice things. I suppose it wouldn't do to give Phebe some of them? Uncle might not like it.”

“He would not mind; but they are not suitable for Phebe. Some of the dresses you are done with would be more useful, if they can be made over to fit her,” answered Aunt Peace in the prudent, moderate tone which is so trying to our feelings when we indulge in little fits of charitable enthusiasm.

“I'd rather give her new ones, for I think she is a little bit proud and might not like old things. If she was my sister it would do, because sisters don't mind, but she isn't, and that makes it bad, you see. I know how I can manage beautifully; I'll adopt her!” and Rose looked quite radiant with this new idea.

“I'm afraid you could not do it legally till you are older, but you might see if she likes the plan, and at any rate you can be very kind to her, for in one sense we are all sisters, and should help one another.”

The sweet old face looked at her so kindly that Rose was fired with a desire to settle the matter at once, and rushed away to the kitchen, just as she was. Phebe was there, polishing up the antique andirons so busily that she started when a voice cried out: “Smell that, taste this, and look at me!”

Phebe sniffed attar of rose, crunched the “Lump of Delight” tucked into her mouth, and stared with all her eyes at little Morgiana prancing about the room like a brilliant paroquet.

“My stars, ain't you splendid!” was all she could say, holding up two dusty hands.

“I've got heaps of lovely things upstairs, and I'll show them all to you, and I'd go halves, only auntie thinks they wouldn't be useful, so I shall give you something else; and you won't mind, will you? because I want to adopt you as Arabella was in the story. Won't that be nice?”

“Why, Miss Rose, have you lost your wits?”

No wonder Phebe asked, for Rose talked very fast, and looked so odd in her new costume, and was so eager she could not stop to explain. Seeing Phebe's bewilderment, she quieted down and said, with a pretty air of earnestness,

“It isn't fair that I should have so much and you so little, and I want to be as good to you as if you were my sister, for Aunt Peace says we are all sisters really. I thought if I adopted you as much as I can now, it would be nicer. Will you let me, please?”

To Rose's great surprise, Phebe sat down on the floor and hid her face in her apron for a minute without answering a word.

“Oh, dear, now she's offended, and I don't know what to do,” thought Rose, much discouraged by this reception of her offer.

“Please, forgive me; I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, and hope you won't think—” she faltered presently, feeling that she must undo the mischief, if possible.

But Phebe gave her another surprise, by dropping the apron and showing a face all smiles, in spite of tears in the eyes, as she put both arms round Rose and said, with a laugh and sob,

“I think you are the dearest girl in the world, and I'll let you do anything you like with me.”

“Then you do like the plan? You didn't cry because I seemed to be kind of patronising? I truly didn't mean to be,” cried Rose, delighted.

“I guess I do like it! and cried because no one was ever so good to me before, and I couldn't help it. As for patronising, you may walk on me if you want to, and I won't mind,” said Phebe, in a burst of gratitude, for the words, “we are sisters” went straight to her lonely heart and nestled there.

“Well, now, we can play I'm a good sprite out of the box, or, what is better, a fairy godmother come down the chimney, and you are Cinderella, and must say what you want,” said Rose, trying to put the question delicately.

Phebe understood that, for she had a good deal of natural refinement, though she did come from the poor-house.

“I don't feel as if I wanted anything now, Miss Rose, but to find some way of thanking you for all you've done,” she said, rubbing off a tear that went rolling down the bridge of her nose in the most unromantic way.

“Why, I haven't done anything but given you a bit of candy! Here, have some more, and eat 'em while you work, and think what I can do. I must go and clear up, so good-bye, and don't forget I've adopted you.”

“You've given me sweeter things than candy, and I'm not likely to forget it.” And carefully wiping off the brick-dust, Phebe pressed the little hand Rose offered warmly in both her hard ones, while the black eyes followed the departing visitor with a grateful look that made them very soft and bright.