Richards. Rose ran to meet him with a glad cry.
"Oh, Tom, this is nice! Has Aunt Lucy come with you?"
"No; she sent me. She wants you and Miss Smythe to spend Saturday to
Monday with us. Why didn't you let us know you were coming yesterday,
Rosie? Aunt Lucy was so disappointed when she found you had come down."
"I didn't think of it till the middle of the day. You had gone to
Guilford, they told me. Wasn't that too far for Aunt Lucy?"
"Why should it be?" asked Tom in a surprised tone. "She has often driven
as far as that. She seemed to enjoy it. She is certainly stronger, Rosie.
But you will see on Saturday. You look rather pale. Come out with me. If
you'll ask me to lunch, I can stay."
Rose hesitated. "I don't think you would like Mrs. Richards' cooking, Tom.
I would rather you wouldn't stay."
"You inhospitable sister! Well, I'll ask you to lunch with me. Run and put
your hat on and let us go out. It is a glorious morning."
He watched her rather impatiently as she got the case and began to put her
violin away. He was anxious to get her out into the open air. It
distressed him to see how pale she was. And he had an uneasy feeling that
he had been neglecting his little sister lately. For days he had hardly
thought of her.
"You aren't practising too hard, I hope, Rosie?" he said kindly.
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