book, dear?"

"'As You Like It.' Cousin Louis gave it to me." As she spoke Rosalind
caught the glance exchanged by her grandmother and aunt.

"When I was a little girl Cousin Louis told me the story because it is
about Rosalind, you know, and ever since I have called it my story,
because I like it best of all."

No comment was made on this explanation, and it seemed to her the next
time she looked in his direction, that Uncle Allan frowned.

When luncheon was over she went out to the garden seat under the birch,
carrying with her an old green speller found in a bookcase upstairs. In
the back of it she had discovered the deaf and dumb alphabet, so now she
would not have to wait for Maurice to teach her; she could learn it by
herself. It did not seem difficult. With the spelling book propped open in
one corner of the bench she went carefully over it, and then tried to
think of words she was most likely to want to use in talking with Morgan;
but this was slower work, and the thought that for some unknown reason her
grandmother was displeased with her kept claiming her attention.

When father was displeased with her--and this was not often--he always
told her, and they talked it over frankly, but grandmamma and Aunt
Genevieve only looked at each other and said nothing. It both puzzled her
and hurt her dignity to be treated in this way.

Presently it occurred to her that her grandmother might have been vexed at
her carelessness in leaving her book on the grass. It was careless; father
would have said so. Well, she could let grandmamma know she was sorry, and