"'Family?' Is Don going to be a Mormon, then?" challenged Philip.
It was Rose, who—blushing prettily—answered, "I hope not, for he is my brother, too, by blood adoption." And she told the story.
"Then why can't I be? I'm ready, nay, anxious, to shed quarts and quarts of blood to attain a like relationship," persisted Philip. And thus the conversation ran on through dinner, for Ethel relented and allowed Dr. Bentley to remain, and, as Donald was again summoned away, it was he who, after all, took Rose to the Merriman apartment.
"Oh," she cried, in telling Gertrude all about it, "I think that it was the happiest evening I ever spent, or it would have been if Big Jerry might only have been there, too."
A slight suggestion of a smile passed over the face of the older woman as she pictured the mountaineer in a Beacon Street drawing room. Rose saw, and interpreted it.
"Grandpap would not have been out of place there, or in a king's palace. He was a king, Miss Merriman."
"Yes, dear, he truly was," the other responded seriously.
There was a pause.
"Isn't Dr. Bentley nice," said Smiles, softly. "He must be splendid, for Dr. Donald likes him a lot."
"He likes you a lot, too! My, aren't we vain?" smiled Gertrude.