"They are in my room upstairs. They are too sacred for use."
"Who ever heard of such a sentimental brother!" she said, turning abruptly away.
Mrs. Wheaton was their companion now, and she soon gave the final touches to a delicate little supper, which, with some choice flowers, she had placed on the table. It was her purpose to wait upon them with the utmost respect and deference, but Mildred drew her into a chair, with a look that repaid the good soul a hundred times for all the past.
"Roger," she said gayly, "Mrs. Wheaton says you don't eat much. You must make up for all the past this evening. I'm going to help you, and don't you dare to leave anything."
"Very well, I've made my will," he said, with a smiling nod.
"Oh, don't talk that way. How much shall I give the delicate creature, Mrs. Wheaton? Look here, Roger, you should not take your meals in a library. You are living on books, and are beginning to look like their half-starved authors."
"You are right, Miss Millie. 'Alf the time ven I come to take havay the thinks I finds 'im readin', and the wittles 'ardly touched."
"Men are such foolish, helpless things!" the young girl protested, shaking her head reprovingly at the offender.
"I must have some company," he replied.
"Nonsense," she cried, veiling her solicitude under a charming petulance. "Roger, if you don't behave better, you'll be a fit subject for a hospital."