"What is it, mamma?" asked Rosie.
"We are talking of going to Viamede, dear."
"Oh that will be nice!"
"But we tan't doe wis-out papa," prattled Walter; "tan we, mamma? I wish my dear papa tum back quick."
Rosie saw the pain in mamma's dear face, the tears in her eyes as she pressed a silent kiss on the brow of the innocent questioner, and with ready, loving tact she seized the little fellow's hand, and, drawing him away, "Come, Walter," she said, "let us go and tell the rest about it."
They ran away together, and Arthur rose to take leave.
"Am I imposing upon your unselfish kindness of heart, my dear cousin?" he asked in an undertone, taking Elsie's hand in his; "is it too great a sacrifice of your own feelings and inclinations?"
She answered with a text, as was not unusual with her, "'Even Christ pleased not himself.'"
Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore were conversing apart at the moment.
"Perhaps," returned Arthur musingly, "we might make some other arrangement; grandpa might be willing to go without—"