"Yes? Where is Rose?"
"It was only a tiny place, but a brook sang in front of it, night and day."
"Must have been pretty. Where did Rose go?"
"It was very quiet there. It would have been a good place to work, if either of us had been musical, or anything of that sort."
"Charming," replied Allison, absently.
"It wasn't far from town, either. We could take a train at two o'clock, and reach Holly Springs a little after three. It was half a mile up the main road from the station, and, as we had no horse, we always walked."
"Nice walk," said Allison, dejectedly.
"I have never been back since—since I was left alone. Sometimes I have thought my little house ought to have someone to look after it. A house gets lonely, too, with no one to care for it."
"I suppose so. Is Rose coming back?"
"I have often thought of the little Summer cottages, huddled together like frightened children, when the life and laughter had gone and Winter was swiftly approaching. How cold their walls must be and how empty the heart of a little house, when there is no fire there! So like a woman, when love has gone out of her life."