the air of a martyr. "Aunt Lucy looked heartbroken when I asked for a week
this time. She has got to depend on me for everything."

"Just so. But if you were away she would do things for herself, and it
would be a thousand times better for her. She won't have missed you this
time as much as you fear, Rosie. And won't you think of me a little bit?
Just think how lonely I shall be!"

"Oh, I know. And I _want_ to come again," Rose said piteously. "I might
get away for a week in May. If you spoke to Aunt Lucy"--

"Trust it to me entirely, dear. I know exactly what to say. And I feel
sure your aunt will let you be free when she understands how much you want
it. For a week or so, I mean," she added hastily, as she saw Rose's
anxious look. "I mustn't ask for more, I suppose."

"It wouldn't be a bit of good to ask," sighed Rose. "If Aunt Lucy said I
might stay longer, she would look so miserable about it I should not like
to take her at her word. But I might be spared for a week, I should think.
That will be something to look forward to."

They reached Woodcote early in the afternoon, and Pauline was soon
furnished with an opportunity to plead Rose's cause with Miss Merivale.
Tom had bought a new pony which he wanted Rose to see, and they went away
to the stables, leaving their aunt and Pauline alone. Pauline had
laughingly refused to accompany them.

"I am going to tell Miss Merivale what Mrs. Metcalfe said about your
music, Rose," she said. "It would make you vain if you were to hear it."