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

content to sing for me alone, with no reward but love." 


"I am so glad to make a little sacrifice for a great happiness I never 

shall regret it or think my music lost if it makes home cheerful for 

my mate. Birds sing sweetest in their own nests, you know." And 

Phebe bent toward him with a look and gesture which plainly 

showed how willingly she offered up all ambitious hopes upon the 

altar of a woman's happy love. 


Both seemed to forget that they were not alone, and in a moment 

they were, for a sudden impulse carried Rose to the door of her 

sanctum, as if the south wind which seemed to have set in was 

wafting this little ship also toward the Islands of the Blessed, 

where the others were safely anchored now. 


The room was a blaze of sunshine and a bower of spring freshness 

and fragrance, for here Rose had let her fancy have free play, and 

each garland, fern, and flower had its meaning. Mac seemed to 

have been reading this sweet language of symbols, to have guessed 

why Charlie's little picture was framed in white roses, why pansies 

hung about his own, why Psyche was half hidden among feathery 

sprays of maidenhair, and a purple passion flower lay at Cupid's 

feet. The last fancy evidently pleased him, for he was smiling over 

it, and humming to himself as if to beguile his patient waiting, the 

burden of the air Rose had so often sung to him: 


"Bonny lassie, will ye gang, will ye gang 

To the birks of Aberfeldie?" 


"Yes, Mac, anywhere!" 


He had not heard her enter, and wheeling around, looked at her 

with a radiant face as he said, drawing a long breath, "At last! You 

were so busy over the dear man, I got no word. But I can wait I'm 

used to it." 


Rose stood quite still, surveying him with a new sort of reverence 

in her eyes, as she answered with a sweet solemnity that made him 

laugh and redden with the sensitive joy of one to whom praise 

from her lips was very precious: "You forget that you are not the 

Mac who went away. I should have run to meet my cousin, but I 

did not dare to be familiar with the poet whom all begin to honor." 


"You like the mixture, then? You know I said I'd try to give you 

love and poetry together." 

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