Rose had him there, and Charlie felt it, but would not give in just yet, though he was going fast, for somehow, in the dark he seemed to see things clearer than in the light, and found it very easy to be confidential when it was “only Rose.”
“If he was my brother, now, he'd have some right to interfere,” began Charlie, in an injured tone.
“I wish he was!” cried Rose.
“So do I,” answered Charlie, and then they both laughed at his inconsistency.
The laugh did them good, and when Prince spoke again, it was in a different tone pensive, not proud nor perverse.
“You see, it's hard upon me that I have no brothers and sisters. The others are better off and needn't go abroad for chums if they don't like. I am all alone, and I'd be thankful even for a little sister.”
Rose thought that very pathetic, and, overlooking the uncomplimentary word “even” in that last sentence, she said, with a timid sort of earnestness that conquered her cousin at once,
“Play I was a little sister. I know I'm silly, but perhaps I'm better than nothing, and I'd dearly love to do it.”
“So should I! and we will, for you are not silly, my dear, but a very sensible girl, we all think, and I'm proud to have you for a sister. There, now!” and Charlie looked down at the curly head bobbing along beside him with real affection in his face.
Rose gave a skip of pleasure, and laid one seal-skin mitten over the other on his arm, as she said happily,