"Well, Rosa," Miss Morison remarked, smiling at the absurdity of the maid, and wiping her hand, "I'm sorry that you feel so bad; but I don't like to be deluged with tears."
"Indeed, Miss," Rosa returned penitently, "I didn't mean to cry on you; but tears come so easy in this world. We're all born crying."
Berenice laughed in spite of herself.
"If we are born crying," she said, "that's reason enough for our smiling when we've outgrown being babies."
"That's all well enough for you," Rosa retorted with fresh tears. "You've got your man here all safe if he is hurt a little; and I don't know"—
Berenice broke in with indignant amazement, feeling her face burn.
"My man!" she exclaimed. "How dare you speak to me like that! Mr. Wynne is nothing to me. He's only a clergyman that was hurt saving my life."
She broke off with a laugh somewhat hysterical. Her nerves were not under control yet.
"I'm sure I didn't mean," wailed the girl, "to say anything wrong."
"There, there, Rosa," the other interrupted. "We are both upset. You shouldn't take so much for granted, or talk to me about 'men.'"