"Then it ought. By the way, Miss Beaufort, has your elderly admirer renewed his proposals?"
"Mr. Parkinson? No, I have not met him since."
"You are sure you won't relent, and make him a happy man?"
"I don't think it at all likely," said Rose, laughing.
Meanwhile Rose had made an enemy without being aware of it.
Miss Arethusa Jayne had long looked upon Clinton Randall with eyes of partiality, not alone on account of his good looks, but because he was wealthy, socially distinguished, and in all respects a desirable parti. In her vanity she had thought that he was not indifferent to her attractions. When, therefore, she saw him walking with her aunt's music-teacher, she was not only angry but jealous. She reluctantly admitted that Rose was pretty, though she considered herself still more so. After this meeting she changed her plans, and went straight to her aunt.
"Aunt," she said, "whom do you think I met on Broadway just now?"
"I am sure I can't tell, Arethusa. I suppose all the world and his wife are out this fine day."
"Your music-teacher, Miss Beaufort, and Clinton Randall."
"You don't say so!" ejaculated Mrs. Tilton. "How should she know him?"