The Rajah was delayed awhile, and when it sailed poor Mrs. Clarawas on board, for everything was ready. All thought she had bettergo to comfort her husband, and since her boy died she seemed tocare very little what became of her. So, with friends to cheer thelong voyage, she sailed away, a heavyhearted woman, yet not quitedisconsolate, for she knew her mourning was excessivelybecoming and felt sure that Stephen would not find her altered byher trials as much as might have been expected.

Then nothing was left of that gay household but the empty rooms,silence never broken by a blithe voice anymore, and pictures fullof promise, but all unfinished, like poor Charlie's life.

There was much mourning for the bonny Prince, but no need to tellof it except as it affected Rose, for it is with her we have most todo, the other characters being of secondary importance.

When time had soothed the first shock of sudden loss, she wassurprised to find the memory of his faults and failings, short lifeand piteous death, grew dim, as if a kindly hand had wiped out therecord and given him back to her in the likeness of the brave,bright boy she had loved, not as the wayward, passionate youngman who had loved her.

This comforted her very much, and folding down the last blottedleaf where his name was written, she gladly turned back to reopenand reread the happier chapters which painted the youthful knightbefore he went out to fall in his first battle. None of the bitternessof love bereaved marred this memory for Rose, because she foundthat the warmer sentiment, just budding in her heart, had died withCharlie and lay cold and quiet in his grave. She wondered, yet wasglad, though sometimes a remorseful pang smote her when shediscovered how possible it was to go on without him, feelingalmost as if a burden had been lifted off, since his happiness wastaken out of her hands. The time had not yet come when theknowledge that a man's heart was in her keeping would make thepride and joy of her life, and while she waited for that moment sheenjoyed the liberty she seemed to have recovered.

Such being her inward state, it much annoyed her to be regarded asa brokenhearted girl and pitied for the loss of her young lover. Shecould not explain to all the world, so let it pass, and occupied hermind with the good works which always lie ready to be taken upand carried on. Having chosen philanthropy as her profession, shefelt that it was high time to begin the task too long neglected.

Her projects were excellent, but did not prosper as rapidly as shehoped, for, having to deal with people, not things, unexpectedobstacles were constantly arising. The "Home for DecayedGentlewomen," as the boys insisted on calling her two newlyrepaired houses, started finely and it was a pleasant sight to see thecomfortable rooms filled with respectable women busy at theirvarious tasks, surrounded by the decencies and many of thecomforts which make life endurable. But, presently, Rose wasdisturbed to find that the good people expected her to take care ofthem in a way she had not bargained for. Buffum, her agent, wasconstantly reporting complaints, new wants, and general discontentif they were not attended to. Things were very neglected, waterpipes froze and burst, drains got out of order, yards were in a mess,and rents behind-hand. Worst of all, outsiders, instead ofsympathizing, only laughed and said, "We told you so," which is amost discouraging remark to older and wiser workers than Rose.

Uncle Alec, however, stood by her staunchly and helped her out ofmany of her woes by good advice and an occasional visit ofinspection, which did much to impress upon the dwellers there thefact that, if they did not do their part, their leases would be shortones.

"I didn't expect to make anything out of it, but I did think theywould be grateful," said Rose on one occasion when severalcomplaints had come in at once and Buffum had reported greatdifficulty in collecting the low rents.

"If you do this thing for the sake of the gratitude, then it is a failurebut if it is done for the love of helping those who need help, it is asuccess, for in spite of their worry every one of these women feelwhat privileges they enjoy and value them highly," said Dr. Alec asthey went home after one of these unsatisfactory calls.

"Then the least they can do is to say 'thank you.' I'm afraid I havethought more of the gratitude than the work, but if there isn't any, Imust make up my mind to go without," answered Rose, feelingdefrauded of her due.

"Favors often separate instead of attracting people nearer to oneanother, and I've seen many a friendship spoilt by the obligationbeing all on one side. Can't explain it, but it is so, and I've come tothe conclusion that it is as hard to give in the right spirit as it is toreceive. Puzzle it out, my dear, while you are learning to do goodfor its own sake."

"I know one sort of people who are grateful and I'm going todevote my mind to them. They thank me in many ways, andhelping them is all pleasure and no worry. Come into the hospitaland see the dear babies, or the Asylum, and carry oranges toPhebe's orphans they don't complain and fidget one's life out, blesstheir hearts!" cried Rose, cheering up suddenly.

After that she left Buffum to manage the "Retreat," and devotedher energies to the little folks, always so ready to receive thesmallest gift and repay the giver with their artless thanks. Here shefound plenty to do, and did it with such sweet goodwill that shewon her way like sunshine, making many a little heart dance oversplendid dolls, gay picture books, and pots of flowers, as well asfood, fire, and clothes for the small bodies pinched with want andpain.

As spring came new plans sprang up as naturally as dandelions.The poor children longed for the country; and, as the green fieldscould not come to them, Rose carried them to the green fields.Down on the Point stood an old farmhouse, often used by theCampbell tribe for summer holidays. That spring it was set torights unusually early, several women installed as housekeeper,cook, and nurses, and when the May days grew bright and warm,squads of pale children came to toddle in the grass, run over therocks, and play upon the smooth sands of the beach. A pretty sight,and one that well repaid those who brought it to pass.

Everyone took an interest in the "Rose Garden," as Mac named it,and the womenfolk were continually driving over to the Point forsomething for the "poor dears." Aunt Plenty sowed gingerbreadbroadcast; Aunt Jessie made pinafores by the dozen while AuntJane "kept her eye" on the nurses, and Aunt Myra suppliedmedicines so liberally that the mortality would have been awful ifDr. Alec had not taken them in charge. To him this was the mostdelightful spot in the world and well it might be, for he suggestedthe idea and gave Rose all the credit of it. He was often there, andhis appearance was always greeted with shrieks of rapture, as thechildren gathered from all quarters creeping, running, hopping oncrutches, or carried in arms which they gladly left to sit on "UncleDoctor's" knee, for that was the title by which he went amongthem.

He seemed as young as any of his comrades, though the curly headwas getting gray, and the frolics that went on when he arrived werebetter than any medicine to children who had never learned toplay. It was a standing joke among the friends that the bachelorbrother had the largest family and was the most domestic man ofthe remaining four, though Uncle Mac did his part manfully andkept Aunt Jane in a constant fidget by his rash propositions toadopt the heartiest boys and prettiest girls to amuse him andemploy her.

On one occasion Aunt Jane had a very narrow escape, and theculprit being her son, not her husband, she felt free to repay herselffor many scares of this sort by a good scolding, which, unlikemany, produced excellent results.

One bright June day, as Rose came cantering home from the Pointon her pretty bay pony, she saw a man sitting on a fallen treebeside the road and something in his despondent attitude arrestedher attention. As she drew nearer he turned his head, and shestopped short, exclaiming in great surprise: "Why, Mac! What areyou doing here?"

"Trying to solve a problem," he answered, looking up with awhimsical expression of perplexity and amusement in his facewhich made Rose smile till his next words turned her sober in atwinkling: "I've eloped with a young lady, and don't know what todo with her. I took her home, of course, but mother turned her outof the house, and I'm in a quandary."

"Is that her baggage?" asked Rose, pointing with her whip to thelarge bundle which he held while the wild idea flashed through herhead that perhaps he really had done some rash deed of this sort.

"No, this is the young lady herself." And, opening a corner of thebrown shawl, he displayed a child of three so pale, so thin and tinythat she looked like a small scared bird just fallen from the nest asshe shrank away from the light with great frightened eyes and ahand like a little claw tightly clutched a button of Mac's coat.

"Poor baby! Where did it come from?" cried Rose, leaning down tolook.

"I'll tell you the story, and then you shall advise me what to do. Atour hospital we've had a poor woman who got hurt and died twodays ago. I had nothing to do with her, only took her a bit of fruitonce or twice, for she had big, wistful sort of eyes that haunted me.The day she died I stopped a minute, and the nurse said she'd beenwanting to speak to me but didn't dare. So I asked if I could doanything for her and, though she could hardly breathe for painbeing almost gone she implored me to take care of baby. I foundout where the child was, and promised I'd see after her for the poorsoul couldn't seem to die till I'd given her that comfort. I never canforget the look in her eyes as I held her hand and said, 'Baby shallbe taken care of.' She tried to thank me, and died soon after quitepeacefully. Well, I went today and hunted up the poor little wretch.Found her in a miserable place, left in the care of an old hag whohad shut her up alone to keep her out of the way, and there thismite was, huddled in a corner, crying 'Marmar, marmar!' fit totouch a heart of stone. I blew up at the woman and took the babystraightaway, for she had been abused. It was high time. Lookthere, will you?"

Mac turned the little skinny arm and showed a blue mark whichmade Rose drop her reins and stretch out both hands, crying with atender sort of indignation: "How dared they do it? Give her to me,poor little motherless thing!"

Mac laid the bundle in her arms, and Rose began to cuddle it in thefond, foolish way women have a most comfortable and effectiveway, nevertheless and baby evidently felt that things werechanging for the better when warm lips touched her cheeks, a softhand smoothed her tumbled hair, and a womanly face bent overher with the inarticulate cooings and purrings mothers make. Thefrightened eyes went up to this gentle countenance and rested thereas if reassured; the little claw crept to the girl's neck, and poorbaby nestled to her with a long sigh and a plaintive murmur of"Marmar, marmar" that certainly would have touched a stonyheart.

"Now, go on. No, Rosa, not you," said the new nurse as theintelligent animal looked around to see if things were all rightbefore she proceeded.

"I took the child home to mother, not knowing what else to do, butshe wouldn't have it at any price, even for a night. She doesn't likechildren, you know, and Father has joked so much about 'thePointers' that she is quite rampant at the mere idea of a child in thehouse. She told me to take it to the Rose Garden. I said it wasrunning over now, and no room even for a mite like this. 'Go to theHospital,' says she. 'Baby isn't ill, ma'am,' says I. 'Orphan Asylum,'says she. 'Not an orphan got a father who can't take care of her,'says I. 'Take her to the Foundling place, or Mrs. Gardener, orsomeone whose business it is. I will not have the creature here,sick and dirty and noisy. Carry it back, and ask Rose to tell youwhat to do with it.' So my cruel parent cast me forth but relented asI shouldered baby, gave me a shawl to put her in, a jumble to feedher with, and money to pay her board in some good place.Mother's bark is always worse than her bite, you know."

"And you were trying to think of the 'good place' as you sat here?"asked Rose, looking down at him with great approval as he stoodpatting Rosa's glossy neck.

"Exactly. I didn't want to trouble you, for you have your house fullalready, and I really couldn't lay my hand on any good soul whowould be bothered with this little forlornity. She has nothing torecommend her, you see not pretty; feeble; shy as a mouse; no endof care, I daresay yet she needs every bit she can get to keep souland body together, if I'm any judge."

Rose opened her lips impulsively, but closed them withoutspeaking and sat a minute looking straight between Rosa's ears, asif forcing herself to think twice before she spoke. Mac watched herout of the corner of his eyes as he said, in a musing tone, tuckingthe shawl around a pair of shabby little feet the while, "This seemsto be one of the charities that no one wants to undertake, yet I can'thelp feeling that my promise to the mother binds me to somethingmore than merely handing baby over to some busy matron orcareless nurse in any of our overcrowded institutions. She is such afrail creature she won't trouble anyone long, perhaps, and I shouldlike to give her just a taste of comfort, if not love, before she findsher 'Marmar' again."

"Lead Rosa I'm going to take this child home, and if Uncle iswilling, I'll adopt her, and she shall be happy!" cried Rose, with thesudden glow of feeling that always made her lovely. And gatheringpoor baby close, she went on her way like a modern Britomart,ready to redress the wrongs of any who had need of her.

As he led the slowly stepping horse along the quiet road, Maccould not help thinking that they looked a little like the Flight intoEgypt, but he did not say so, being a reverent youth only glancedback now and then at the figure above him, for Rose had taken offher hat to keep the light from baby's eyes and sat with the sunshineturning her uncovered hair to gold as she looked down at the littlecreature resting on the saddle before her with the sweetthoughtfulness one sees in some of Correggio's young Madonnas.

No one else saw the picture, but Mac long remembered it, and everafter there was a touch of reverence added to the warm affectionhe had always borne his cousin Rose.

"What is the child's name?" was the sudden question whichdisturbed a brief silence, broken only by the sound of pacing hoofs,the rustle of green boughs overhead, and the blithe caroling ofbirds.

"I'm sure I don't know," answered Mac, suddenly aware that he hadfallen out of one quandary into another.

"Didn't you ask?"

"No, the mother called her 'Baby,' and the old woman, 'Brat.' Andthat is all I know of the first name the last is Kennedy. You maychristen her what you like."

"Then I shall name her Dulcinea, as you are her knight, and callher Dulce for short. That is a sweet diminutive, I'm sure," laughedRose, much amused at the idea.

Don Quixote looked pleased and vowed to defend his little ladystoutly, beginning his services on the spot by filling the smallhands with buttercups, thereby winning for himself the first smilebaby's face had known for weeks.

When they got home Aunt Plenty received her new guest with heraccustomed hospitality and, on learning the story, was as warmlyinterested as even enthusiastic Rose could desire, bustling about tomake the child comfortable with an energy pleasant to see, for thegrandmotherly instincts were strong in the old lady and of late hadbeen beautifully developed.

In less than half an hour from the time baby went upstairs, shecame down again on Rose's arm, freshly washed and brushed, in apink gown much too large and a white apron decidedly too small;an immaculate pair of socks, but no shoes; a neat bandage on thebruised arm, and a string of spools for a plaything hanging on theother. A resigned expression sat upon her little face, but thefrightened eyes were only shy now, and the forlorn heart evidentlymuch comforted.

"There! How do you like your Dulce now?" said Rose, proudlydisplaying the work of her hands as she came in with her habitpinned up and carrying a silver porringer of bread and milk.

Mac knelt down, took the small, reluctant hand, and kissed it asdevoutly as ever good Alonzo Quixada did that of the Duchesswhile he said, merrily quoting from the immortal story: "'High andSovereign Lady, thine till death, the Knight of the RuefulCountenance.'"

But baby had no heart for play and, withdrawing her hand, pointedto the porringer with the suggestive remark: "Din-din, now."

So Rose sat down and fed the Duchess while the Don stood by andwatched the feast with much satisfaction.

"How nice she looks! Do you consider shoes unhealthy?" he asked,surveying the socks with respectful interest.

"No, her shoes are drying. You must have let her go in the mud."

"I only put her down for a minute when she howled, and she madefor a puddle, like a duck. I'll buy her some new ones clothes too.Where do I go, what do I ask for, and how much do I get?" he said,diving for his pocketbook, amiably anxious but pitiably ignorant.

"I'll see to that. We always have things on hand for the Pointers asthey come along and can soon fit Dulce out. You may make someinquiries about the father if you will, for I don't want to have hertaken away just as I get fond of her. Do you know anything abouthim?"

"Only that he is in State Prison for twenty-one years, and not likelyto trouble you."

"How dreadful! I really think Phebe was better off to have none atall. I'll go to work at once, then, and try to bring up the convict'slittle daughter to be a good woman so that she will have an honestname of her own, since he has nothing but disgrace to give her."

"Uncle can show you how to do that if you need any help. He hasbeen so successful in his first attempt, I fancy you won't requiremuch," said Mac, picking up the spools for the sixth time.

"Yes, I shall, for it is a great responsibility, and I do not undertakeit lightly," answered Rose soberly, though the double-barreledcompliment pleased her very much.

"I'm sure Phebe has turned out splendidly, and you began veryearly with her."

"So I did! That's encouraging. Dear thing, how bewildered shelooked when I proposed adopting her. I remember all about it, forUncle had just come and I was quite crazy over a box of presentsand rushed at Phebe as she was cleaning brasses. How little Ithought my childish offer would end so well!" And Rose fella-musing with a happy smile on her face while baby picked the lastmorsels out of the porringer with her own busy fingers.

It certainly had ended well, for Phebe at the end of six months notonly had a good place as choir singer but several young pupils andexcellent prospects for the next winter.

"Accept the blessing of a poor young man,Whose lucky steps have led him to your door,and let me help as much as I can. Good-bye, my Dulcinea."

And, with a farewell stroke of the smooth head, Mac went away toreport his success to his mother, who, in spite of her seemingharshness, was already planning how she could best befriend thisinconvenient baby.