"It's not Mr. Stanford, is it?"
Rose gave a gasp—in the suddenness of the surprise, colouring crimson. Grace saw it all, as she placidly threaded her needle.
"I wouldn't if I were you," she said quietly. "It's of no use, Rose. Kate is handsomer than you are; and it will only be the old comedy of 'Love's Labour Lost' over again."
"Grace Danton, what do you mean?"
"Now, don't get excited, Rose, and don't raise your voice. Your father might hear you, and that would not be pleasant. It is plain enough. Mr. Stanford is very handsome, and very fascinating, and very hard to resist, I dare say; but, still, he must be resisted. Mr. La Touche is a very estimable young man, I have no doubt, and of a highly respectable family; and, very likely, will make you an excellent husband. If I were you, I would ask my papa to let me go on another visit to Ottawa, and remain, say, until the end of May. It would do you good, I am sure."
Rose listened to this harangue, her eyes flashing.
"And if I were you, Miss Grace Danton, I would keep my advice until it was asked. Be so good for the future, as to mind your own business, attend to your housekeeping, and let other people's love affairs alone."
With which Rose sailed stormily off, with very red cheeks, and very bright, angry eyes, and sought refuge in a book.
Grace, perfectly unmoved, quite used to Rose's temper, sewed serenely on, and waited for the rest of the family to appear.
Eeny was the next to enter, then came Sir Ronald Keith, who took a chair opposite Captain Danton, and buried himself in another paper. To him, in Kate's absence, the room was empty.