"Home, please: that is, if you are willing, Miss Bessie."
"Fred, do you think me a dragon?" asked Bess, soberly. "Now tell me truly, are you sorry you came out to-day? Even if you are a little tired, won't the old sofa feel all the better for the change?" And while she waited for his reply, she looked with pleasure at the clear, bright color that the wind had brought into his cheeks.
"No, I don't know as I'm sorry, as long as you came too. But it's no fun driving alone, and mother's too busy to go with me."
There was a pause, and then he suddenly asked,—
"Miss Bess, what makes you so good to me?"
"Good, to have a pleasant drive with my boy. I didn't suppose that showed any great virtue. But," added Bess more seriously, "I want to teach my boy to make the very best of his life. You have one hard, hard sorrow to bear, dear; but you have ever so many pleasant things to enjoy, if you only think of it: your home," here Bessie caught her breath, as a vision of Mrs. Allen crossed her mind, then went on calmly, "all your friends, who care so much for you; and then there are so many things you can do, as you get a little more used to yourself. But this is enough sermon now, for here you are at home. Just take my arm." And she led the boy into the house and up to the fire.
Mr. and Mrs. Allen dined out that night, and Fred and Bess had the house to themselves. Fred was so roused by the little change, and Bess so pleased at her own success, that their dinner was a merry one. Fred insisted that it should be served on a small table by their favorite fire, instead of in the imposing dining-room, and Mary, rejoiced at anything that could bring Master Fred out of his languid indifference, was only too glad to make the change, however much work it might involve for herself.
The boy was in fine spirits, in his delight at having Bess stay to dinner, all to himself, and the two told stories and asked conundrums till the room fairly rang with their mirth. At dinner, Bess sent Mary away and waited on the boy herself, giving him the needed help in such a matter-of-course fashion that he forgot to feel sensitive about it until long after his guest had gone.
After dinner, when the table was cleared away, and Fred's sofa moved again to the fire, they both settled themselves on it for a quiet chat. The fire shone out on a pretty picture. Bess, in her dark red gown, sat leaning luxuriously against the dull blue cushions of the oak sofa, while Fred was close by her side, with his hand through her arm, his head on her shoulder, listening with a laughing face to his friend's account of some college frolics. There was no light in the room but the steady glow from the grate, that plainly showed their faces, but for the moment kindly hid the sad, blank look in Fred's once beautiful eyes, and only gave them a dreamy, thoughtful expression, as from time to time he turned his face up to Bess.
In the midst of their conversation, the bell rang, and the next moment Mary, privately instructed by Bess, without word of warning ushered Rob into the room. For a minute he stood, hesitating whether to speak to Fred or not, but Bess quickly came to the rescue.