unattractive. She was considering it pensively when her eyes fell on a
long-stemmed, creamy rose, lying not far from her on the ground. With
instant pleasure in its beauty she took it up and held it against her
cheek.

Where had it come from? Some one must have dropped it. She stood up and
looked around, but there was no one in sight. On the other side of a holly
bush, however, a number of just such roses lay on a grave. Rosalind walked
over and stooped to read the name on the low headstone. "Robert Ellis
Fair," she repeated half aloud as she laid her rose beside the others.

When she lifted her head she met the surprised gaze of a young lady, who
came across the grass with a watering-pot in her hand. She was decidedly
pretty to look at, and she smiled pleasantly as she began watering the
flowers in an iron vase.

Rosalind felt she must explain, so she said, smiling in her turn, "I found
a rose on the grass, and I thought it must belong here."

"Thank you. I suppose I dropped it. Won't you tell me who you are? I am
sure you do not live in Friendship."

"No, I am visiting my grandmother. I am Rosalind Whittredge."

A strange expression crossed the face of the young lady at this
announcement. Could it be that something displeased her? After a moment
she spoke gravely, "I think some one is looking for you," she said.

Turning, Rosalind saw Martin in the distance, and as there seemed nothing
else to do or say, she walked away. After she had gone some little