“I will write to you every week, Roland. And I will keep a journal for you, and send it in monthly parts, so that you may seem to be traveling with us! Oh, how I wish you were!” sighed Rosemary.
“Do you, darling? Well, perhaps you may see me sooner than you expect,” replied Roland, mysteriously.
“Oh! oh! will you be coming over? Does the Kitty ever go to England?”
“I don’t know, dear; but if the Kitty don’t, there will be one or two other little craft crossing—perhaps. Let us live in hope.”
While Rosemary and Roland chatted together, Mrs. Hedge turned to Mrs. Force, saying:
“Oh, you happy woman! You are going to Europe with all you love at your side—husband, children and nephew! While I stay home, widowed, practically childless and alone! Talk of the compensations of life! There is no compensation in mine.”
“‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness!’” murmured Elfrida Force to herself.
“Mother! Mother! I won’t go! I won’t leave you!” cried Rosemary, jumping up and throwing herself into the widow’s arms.
“Hush, my child, hush! I wish you to go, and you must do so. It is for your own profit and instruction,” replied Mrs. Hedge.
“Then, my own dear mother, won’t you just think that I have only gone back to school in Washington, and that I shall be home as usual to spend the Christmas holidays? Mr. Force expects to bring us all home in December.”