"It isn't ever too late," said grannie. "But I don't seem to want you to go. I'm fond of you, dear." Rose lifted the cherishing hand to her lips. "Peter is fond of you, too. He told me so to-day. It is all over between him and Electra. He told you that?"
"Dear Peter! But after this"—she was quivering with impatience to put that test—"you wouldn't be willing to have him like me—after this?"
Now grannie was silent, but only because she was thinking. The tightening clasp of her hand made that evident.
"My dear," she said at last, in her soft old voice, "you can't imagine how stupid I am. I never know how to say things right. But if it was a transgression—I suppose you'd say it was—"
Honesty rose up in the girl, and cried to be heard.
"I thought it was right," she protested sharply. "I did think it was right. About coming here I didn't think much, except that I was lonesome and afraid. Now I understand. I must pay my penalties. I must be honest. It is too late,—but it's all I can do."
"You see, about transgressions," said grannie, "why, they're not to be thought of, my dear, not for an instant after we are sorry. We've just taken the wrong road, that's all. We've got to clip it back into the right one. We can't sit down to cry."
"We've got to take our punishment!"
"Yes, mercy, yes! I guess we have. But we've got to be happy, too. The punishments were given us in love. We've got to be thankful for 'em. Now, do you feel as if 't was right for you to go back with your father?"
"There are hard things there. I ran away from them. I must face them."