"'Doesn't Rose look as if the air at Avondale had done her a world of good?' Uncle John asked.
"'Really, John, I'm not sure,' Aunt Rose said, looking at me through her glasses, just as if I were a queer bug, or butterfly such as she'd never seen before. Uncle John looked vexed.
"'You certainly see that her cheeks are rosy, and she is rounder than when she first came to me,' he said.
"That's what I was thinking of,' she said, 'and when she was at our home, she was more delicate in her appearance. More slender, and pale, as an Atherton should be.
"'No "Rose Atherton" ever was what country people call "buxom"! I'm not countrified!' I said, half expecting to be scolded, but Uncle John put his arm around me, and drew me closer as he said:
"'Indeed you are not, unless fresh color, and dimples, mean countrified, when I should think the term a compliment.' Then he turned to Great Aunt Rose.
"'I have endeavored, ever since I have had little Rose under my care, to keep her much in the open air, and she has gained strength from sunshine and breeze,' he said.
"'I knew it! I knew it!' she said, springing from the sofa, and looking dreadfully excited, 'and that is the reason for my call. You'll have her tanned with the sun, and her complexion ruined by the wind, and she'll look like anything but an Atherton by the time she's a young lady!
"'You must let her return to the old Atherton house with me, and in its quiet, refining influence she will regain the delicate appearance that was so charming.
"'Rose, will you come with me?'