“Oh! oh! oh!” moaned Miss Grandiere, sadly, shaking her head.
“Aunt Sukey, no one ever has the kindness to ask a little girl like me to dance except dear Roland. Other gentlemen ask young ladies; but dear Roland always asks me, and he never lets me be neglected. And I shall never forget him for it, but shall always like him.”
“Um, um, um!” softly moaned the stately lady to herself.
“And Roland told me he was named after a knight who was ‘without fear and without reproach,’ and that he meant always to deserve his name, and to be my knight—mine.”
“Dear, dear, dear!” murmured Miss Grandiere.
“What is the matter, Aunt Sukey?” inquired Rosemary, again pushing back her silky, black curls, and lifting her large, light blue eyes to the lady’s troubled face.
“Rosemary, my child,” began Miss Grandiere, with out replying to the little girl’s question, “Rosemary, you know the Forces are going to Washington next week?”
“Oh! yes; everybody knows that now.”
“And Wynnette and Elva are going to be put to school there?”
“Yes, everybody knows that, too, Aunt Sukey.”