Rose sat all alone in the big best parlor, with her littlehandkerchief laid ready to catch the first tear, for she was thinkingof her troubles, and a shower was expected. She had retired to thisroom as a good place in which to be miserable; for it was dark andstill, full of ancient furniture, sombre curtains, and hung all aroundwith portraits of solemn old gentlemen in wigs, severe-nosedladies in top-heavy caps, and staring children in little bob-tailedcoats or short-waisted frocks. It was an excellent place for woe;and the fitful spring rain that pattered on the window-pane seemedto sob, "Cry away: I'm with you."

Rose really did have some cause to be sad; for she had no mother,and had lately lost her father also, which left her no home but thiswith her great-aunts. She had been with them only a week, and,though the dear old ladies had tried their best to make her happy,they had not succeeded very well, for she was unlike any child theyhad ever seen, and they felt very much as if they had the care of alow-spirited butterfly.

They had given her the freedom of the house, and for a day or twoshe had amused herself roaming all over it, for it was a capital oldmansion, and was full of all manner of odd nooks, charmingrooms, and mysterious passages. Windows broke out inunexpected places, little balconies overhung the garden mostromantically, and there was a long upper hall full of curiositiesfrom all parts of the world; for the Campbells had beensea-captains for generations.

Aunt Plenty had even allowed Rose to rummage in her great chinacloset a spicy retreat, rich in all the "goodies" that children love;but Rose seemed to care little for these toothsome temptations;and when that hope failed, Aunt Plenty gave up in despair.

Gentle Aunt Peace had tried all sorts of pretty needle-work, andplanned a doll's wardrobe that would have won the heart of evenan older child. But Rose took little interest in pink satin hats andtiny hose, though she sewed dutifully till her aunt caught herwiping tears away with the train of a wedding-dress, and thatdiscovery put an end to the sewing society.

Then both old ladies put their heads together and picked out themodel child of the neighbourhood to come and play with theirniece. But Ariadne Blish was the worst failure of all, for Rosecould not bear the sight of her, and said she was so like a wax dollshe longed to give her a pinch and see if she would squeak. Soprim little Ariadne was sent home, and the exhausted aunties leftRose to her own devices for a day or two.

Bad weather and a cold kept her in-doors, and she spent most ofher time in the library where her father's books were stored. Hereshe read a great deal, cried a little, and dreamed many of theinnocent bright dreams in which imaginative children find suchcomfort and delight. This suited her better than anything else, butit was not good for her, and she grew pale, heavy-eyed and listless,though Aunt Plenty gave her iron enough to make a cooking-stove,and Aunt Peace petted her like a poodle.

Seeing this, the poor aunties racked their brains for a newamusement and determined to venture a bold stroke, though notvery hopeful of its success. They said nothing to Rose about theirplan for this Saturday afternoon, but let her alone till the timecame for the grand surprise, little dreaming that the odd childwould find pleasure for herself in a most unexpected quarter.

Before she had time to squeeze out a single tear a sound broke thestillness, making her prick up her ears. It was only the soft twitterof a bird, but it seemed to be a peculiarly gifted bird, for while shelistened the soft twitter changed to a lively whistle, then a trill, acoo, a chirp, and ended in a musical mixture of all the notes, as ifthe bird burst out laughing. Rose laughed also, and, forgetting herwoes, jumped up, saying eagerly

"It is a mocking-bird. Where is it?"

Running down the long hall, she peeped out at both doors, but sawnothing feathered except a draggle-tailed chicken under a burdockleaf. She listened again, and the sound seemed to be in the house.Away she went, much excited by the chase, and following thechangeful song, it led her to the china-closet door.

"In there? How funny!" she said. But when she entered, not a birdappeared except the everlastingly kissing swallows on the Cantonchina that lined the shelves. All of a sudden Rose's facebrightened, and, softly opening the slide, she peered into thekitchen. But the music had stopped, and all she saw was a girl in ablue apron scrubbing the hearth. Rose stared about her for aminute, and then asked abruptly

"Did you hear that mocking-bird?"

"I should call it a phebe-bird," answered the girl, looking up with atwinkle in her black eyes.

"Where did it go?"

"It is here still."

"Where?"

"In my throat. Do you want to hear it?"

"Oh, yes! I'll come in." And Rose crept through the slide to thewide shelf on the other side, being too hurried and puzzled to goround by the door.

The girl wiped her hands, crossed her feet on the little island ofcarpet where she was stranded in a sea of soap-suds, and then, sureenough, out of her slender throat came the swallow's twitter, therobin's whistle, the blue-jay's call, the thrush's song, thewood-dove's coo, and many another familiar note, all ending asbefore with the musical ecstacy of a bobolink singing andswinging among the meadow grass on a bright June day.

Rose was so astonished that she nearly fell off her perch, and whenthe little concert was over clapped her hands delightedly.

"Oh, it was lovely! Who taught you?"

"The birds," answered the girl, with a smile, as she fell to workagain.

"It is very wonderful! I can sing, but nothing half so fine as that.What is your name, please?"

"Phebe Moore."

"I've heard of phebe-birds; but I don't believe the real ones coulddo that," laughed Rose, adding, as she watched with interest thescattering of dabs of soft soap over the bricks, "May I stay and seeyou work? It is very lonely in the parlor."

"Yes, indeed, if you want to," answered Phebe, wringing out hercloth in a capable sort of way that impressed Rose very much.

"It must be fun to swash the water round and dig out the soap. I'dlove to do it, only aunt wouldn't like it, I suppose," said Rose, quitetaken with the new employment.

"You'd soon get tired, so you'd better keep tidy and look on."

"I suppose you help your mother a good deal?"

"I haven't got any folks."

"Why, where do you live, then?"

"I'm going to live here, I hope. Debby wants some one to helpround, and I've come to try for a week."

"I hope you will stay, for it is very dull," said Rose, who had takena sudden fancy to this girl, who sung like a bird and worked like awoman.

"Hope I shall; for I'm fifteen now, and old enough to earn my ownliving. You have come to stay a spell, haven't you?" asked Phebe,looking up at her guest and wondering how life could be dull to agirl who wore a silk frock, a daintily frilled apron, a pretty locket,and had her hair tied up with a velvet snood.

"Yes, I shall stay till my uncle comes. He is my guardian now, andI don't know what he will do with me. Have you a guardian?"

"My sakes, no! I was left on the poor-house steps a little mite of ababy, and Miss Rogers took a liking to me, so I've been there eversince. But she is dead now, and I take care of myself."

"How interesting! It is like Arabella Montgomery in the 'Gypsy'sChild.' Did you ever read that sweet story?" asked Rose, who wasfond of tales of found-lings, and had read many.

"I don't have any books to read, and all the spare time I get I runoff into the woods; that rests me better than stories," answeredPhebe, as she finished one job and began on another.

Rose watched her as she got out a great pan of beans to look over,and wondered how it would seem to have life all work and no play.Presently Phebe seemed to think it was her turn to ask questions,and said, wistfully

"You've had lots of schooling, I suppose?"

"Oh, dear me, yes! I've been at boarding school nearly a year, andI'm almost dead with lessons. The more I got, the more MissPower gave me, and I was so miserable that I 'most cried my eyesout. Papa never gave me hard things to do, and he always taughtme so pleasantly I loved to study. Oh, we were so happy and sofond of one another! But now he is gone, and I am left all alone."

The tear that would not come when Rose sat waiting for it camenow of its own accord two of them in fact and rolled down hercheeks, telling the tale of love and sorrow better than any wordscould do it.

For a minute there was no sound in the kitchen but the littledaughter's sobbing and the sympathetic patter of the rain. Phebestopped rattling her beans from one pan to another, and her eyeswere full of pity as they rested on the curly head bent down onRose's knee, for she saw that the heart under the pretty locketached with its loss, and the dainty apron was used to dry saddertears than any she had ever shed.

Somehow, she felt more contented with her brown calico gownand blue-checked pinafore; envy changed to compassion; and ifshe had dared she would have gone and hugged her afflicted guest.

Fearing that might not be considered proper, she said, in hercheery voice

"I'm sure you ain't all alone with such a lot of folks belonging toyou, and all so rich and clever. You'll be petted to pieces, Debbysays, because you are the only girl in the family."

Phebe's last words made Rose smile in spite of her tears, and shelooked out from behind her apron with an April face, saying in atone of comic distress

"That's one of my troubles! I've got six aunts, and they all want me,and I don't know any of them very well. Papa named this place theAunt-hill, and now I see why."

Phebe laughed with her as she said encouragingly,

"Everyone calls it so, and it's a real good name, for all the Mrs.Campbells live handy by, and keep coming up to see the oldladies."

"I could stand the aunts, but there are dozens of cousins, dreadfulboys all of them, and I detest boys! Some of them came to see melast Wednesday, but I was lying down, and when auntie came tocall me I went under the quilt and pretended to be asleep. I shallhave to see them some time, but I do dread it so." And Rose gave ashudder, for, having lived alone with her invalid father, she knewnothing of boys, and considered them a species of wild animal.

"Oh! I guess you'll like 'em. I've seen 'em flying round when theycome over from the Point, sometimes in their boats and sometimeson horseback. If you like boats and horses, you'll enjoy yourselffirst-rate."

"But I don't! I'm afraid of horses, and boats make me ill, and I hateboys!" And poor Rose wrung her hands at the awful prospectbefore her. One of these horrors alone she could have borne, butall together were too much for her, and she began to think of aspeedy return to the detested school.

Phebe laughed at her woe till the beans danced in the pan, but triedto comfort her by suggesting a means of relief.

"Perhaps your uncle will take you away where there ain't any boys.Debby says he is a real kind man, and always bring heaps of nicethings when he comes."

"Yes, but you see that is another trouble, for I don't know UncleAlec at all. He hardly ever came to see us, though he sent mepretty things very often. Now I belong to him, and shall have tomind him, till I am eighteen. I may not like him a bit, and I fretabout it all the time."

"Well, I wouldn't borrow trouble, but have a real good time. I'msure I should think I was in clover if I had folks and money, andnothing to do but enjoy myself," began Phebe, but got no further,for a sudden rush and tumble outside made them both jump.

"It's thunder," said Phebe.

"It's a circus!" cried Rose, who from her elevated perch had caughtglimpses of a gay cart of some sort and several ponies with flyingmanes and tails.

The sound died away, and the girls were about to continue theirconfidences when old Debby appeared, looking rather cross andsleepy after her nap.

"You are wanted in the parlor, Miss Rose."

"Has anybody come?"

"Little girls shouldn't ask questions, but do as they are bid," wasall Debby would answer.

"I do hope it isn't Aunt Myra; she always scares me out of my witsasking how my cough is, and groaning over me as if I was going todie," said Rose, preparing to retire the way she came, for the slide,being cut for the admission of bouncing Christmas turkeys andpuddings, was plenty large enough for a slender girl.

"Guess you'll wish it was Aunt Myra when you see who has come.Don't never let me catch you coming into my kitchen that wayagain, or I'll shut you up in the big b'iler," growled Debby, whothought it her duty to snub children on all occasions.