But after a while Harry Goldthwaite stayed away four whole days, and then he only came in to say that he was going to Washington to be gone a week.  It was October, now, and his orders might come any day.  Then we might not see him again for three years, perhaps.

On the Thursday of that next week, Barbara said she would go down and see Mrs. Goldthwaite.

“I think it quite time you should,” said Mrs. Holabird.  Barbara had not been down there once since the wedding-day.

She put her crochet in her pocket, and we thought of course she would stay to tea.  It was four in the afternoon when she went away.

About an hour later Olivia Marchbanks called.

It came out that Olivia had a move to make.  In fact, that she wanted to set us all to making moves.  She proposed a chess-club, for the winter, to bring us together regularly; to include half a dozen families, and meet by turn at the different houses.

“I dare say Miss Pennington will have her neighborhood parties again,” she said; “they are nice, but rather exhausting; we want something quiet, to come in between.  Something a little more among ourselves, you know.  Maria Hendee is a splendid chess-player, and so is Mark.  Maud plays with her father, and Adelaide and I are learning.  I know you play, Rosamond, and Barbara,—­doesn’t she?  Nobody can complain of a chess-club, you see; and we can have a table at whist for the elders who like it, and almost always a round game for the odds and ends.  After supper, we can dance, or anything.  Don’t you think it would do?”

“I think it would do nicely for one thing,” said Rose, thoughtfully.  “But don’t let us allow it to be the whole of our winter.”

Olivia Marchbanks’s face clouded.  She had put forward a little pawn of compliment toward us, as towards a good point, perhaps, for tempting a break in the game.  And behold!  Rosamond’s knight only leaped right over it, facing honestly and alertly both ways.

“Chess would be good for nothing less than once a week,” said Olivia.  “I came to you almost the very first, out of the family,” she added, with a little height in her manner.  “I hope you won’t break it up.”

“Break it up!  No, indeed!  We were all getting just nicely joined together,” replied Rosamond, ladylike with perfect temper.  “I think last winter was so really good,” she went on; “I should be sorry to break up what that did; that is all.”

“I’m willing enough to help in those ways,” said Olivia, condescendingly; “but I think we might have our own things, too.”

“I don’t know, Olivia,” said Rosamond, slowly, “about these ’own things.’  They are just what begin to puzzle me.”

It was the bravest thing our elegant Rosamond had ever done.  Olivia Marchbanks was angry.  She all but took back her invitation.

“Never mind,” she said, getting up to take leave.  “It must be some time yet; I only mentioned it.  Perhaps we had better not try to go beyond ourselves, after all.  Such things are sure to be stupid unless everybody is really interested.”