"Yes; she is a poor child whom I took out of pity to bring up; her mother is dead, and so I offered her a home."
"That's right," said Mr. Clifton, who had his own views about Dolly's motives. "I hope she will attend the Sabbath-school; Mrs. Clifton, I know, would like her to be in her class."
Dolly's countenance fell. "Well, I don't know about that, though I'm obleeged to Mrs. Clifton. I don't think Rose would be willing to go."
"She might be shy at first," said the minister, "but my wife has quite a gift at drawing out children's hearts. I think little Rose would soon love her."
"I don't think she will be able to go," said Dolly, coldly; "but I'll think of it."
"Do," replied Mr. Clifton, "and perhaps you would allow her sometimes to run over and see the baby and the garden. Children are sociable little creatures, you know. Is she fond of flowers?"
"I guess not," said Dolly. "I am sure I never could see any use in them, except to make artificial ones by, to trim bonnets."
Mr. Clifton smiled, in spite of himself, at this professional view of the subject. "Well, the baby then," he added; "it is just beginning to be interesting. I think she would like the baby."
"She don't seem to have much inclination to go about," answered Dolly, "and it is not best to put her up to it; home is the best place for children."
Ay, home, thought Mr. Clifton, as Rose's sweet sad eyes and pale face passed before him.