“Are the boys in the library, auntie?”
“Yes, dear, and longing for sunshine; so run in and make it for them,” answered Mrs. Jessie.
“It's Rose,” and Archie threw his cigar into the fire.
“What's that for?” asked Charlie.
“Gentlemen don't smoke before ladies.”
“True; but I'm not going to waste my weed,” and Prince poked his into the empty inkstand that served them for an ash tray.
A gentle tap at the door was answered by a chorus of “Come in,” and Rose appeared, looking blooming and breezy with the chilly air.
“If I disturb you, say so, and I'll go away,” she began, pausing on the threshold with modest hesitation, for something in the elder boys' faces excited her curiosity.
“You never disturb us, cousin,” said the smokers, while the readers tore themselves from the heroes of the bar-room and gutter long enough to nod affably to their guest.
As Rose bent to warm her hands, one end of Archie's cigar stuck out of the ashes, smoking furiously and smelling strongly.