Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
Coming Home
Old Friends with New Faces
Miss Campbell
Thorns Among the Roses
Prince Charming
Polishing Mac
Breakers Ahead
New Year's Calls
The Sad and Sober Part
Small Temptations
At Kitty's Ball
Both Sides
Aunt Clara's Plan
Alas for Charlie!
Good Works
Among the Haycocks
Which Was It?
Behind the Fountain
What Mac Did
How Phebe Earned Her Welcome
Short and Sweet

was pleasantest now, for Dulce seldom talked, so much meditation 

was possible. Even Aunt Plenty's red flannel, camphor, and Pond's 

Extract were preferable to general society, and long solitary rides 

on Rosa seemed the only thing to put her in tune after one of her 

attempts to find out what she ought to do or leave undone. 


She made up her mind at last, and arming herself with an unmade 

pen, like Fanny Squeers, she boldly went into the study to confer 

with Dr. Alec at an hour when Mac was usually absent. 

"I want a pen for marking can you make me one, Uncle?" she 

asked, popping her head in to be sure he was alone. 


"Yes, my dear," answered a voice so like the doctor's that she 

entered without delay. 


But before she had taken three steps she stopped, looking rather 

annoyed, for the head that rose from behind the tall desk was not 

rough and gray, but brown and smooth, and Mac, not Uncle Alec, 

sat there writing. Late experience had taught her that she had 

nothing to fear from a tete-a-tete and, having with difficulty taken 

a resolution, she did not like to fail of carrying it out. 


"Don't get up, I won't trouble you if you are busy, there is no 

hurry," she said, not quite sure whether it were wiser to stay or run 



Mac settled the point by taking the pen out of her hand and 

beginning to cut it, as quietly as Nicholas did on that "thrilling" 

occasion. Perhaps he was thinking of that, for he smiled as he 

asked, "Hard or soft?" 


Rose evidently had forgotten that the family of Squeers ever 

existed, for she answered: "Hard, please," in a voice to match. "I'm 

glad to see you doing that," she added, taking courage from his 

composure and going as straight to her point as could be expected 

of a woman. 


"And I am very glad to do it." 


"I don't mean making pens, but the romance I advised," and she 

touched the closely written page before him, looking as if she 

would like to read it. 


"That is my abstract on a lecture on the circulation of the blood," 

he answered, kindly turning it so that she could see. "I don't write 

romances I'm living one," and he glanced up with the happy, 

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