“I wonder if Katy will think it quite so delightful,” remarked Rose.  “Girls are not always so anxious to ship their husbands off for what you call ‘good long times.’”

“I think she ought.  It seems to me perfectly unnatural that any one should want to leave her own family and go away for always.  I like Ned dearly, but except for this blessed arrangement about going to sea, I don’t see how Katy could.”

“Clover, you are a goose.  You’ll be wiser one of these days, see if you aren’t,” was Rose’s only reply.

CHAPTER IV.

TWO LONG YEARS IN ONE SHORT CHAPTER.

Katy’s absence left a sad blank in the household.  Every one missed her, but nobody so much as Clover, who all her life long had been her room-mate, confidante, and intimate friend.

It was a great help that Rose was there for the first three lonely days.  Dulness and sadness were impossible with that vivacious little person at hand; and so long as she stayed, Clover had small leisure to be mournful.  Rose was so bright and merry and affectionate that Elsie and John were almost as much in love with her as Clover herself, and sat and sunned themselves in her warmth, so to speak, all day long, while Phil and Dorry fairly quarrelled as to which should have the pleasure of doing little services for her and Baby Rose.

If she could have remained the summer through, all would have seemed easy; but that of course was impossible.  Mr. Browne appeared with a provoking punctuality on the morning of the fourth day, prepared to carry his family away with him.  He spent one night at Dr. Carr’s, and they all liked him very much.  No one could help it, he was so cordial and friendly and pleasant.  Still, for all her liking, Clover could have found it in her heart to quite detest him as the final moment drew near.

“Let him go home without you,” she urged coaxingly.  “Stay with us all summer,—­you and little Rose!  He can come back in September to fetch you, and it would be so delightful to us.”

“My dear, I couldn’t live without Deniston till September,” said the disappointing Rose.  “It may not show itself to a casual observer, but I am really quite foolish about Deniston.  I shouldn’t be happy away from him at all.  He’s the only husband I’ve got,—­a ‘poor thing, but mine own,’ as the ‘immortal William’ puts it.”

“Oh, dear,” groaned Clover.  “That is the way that Katy is going to talk about Ned, I suppose.  Matrimony is the most aggravating condition of things for outsiders that was ever invented.  I wish nobody had invented it.  Here it would be so nice for us to have you stay, and the moment that provoking husband of yours appears, you can’t think of any one else.”

“Too true—­much too true.  Now, Clovy, don’t embitter our last moments with reproaches.  It’s hard enough to leave you as it is, when I’ve just found you again after all these years.  I’ve had the most beautiful visit that ever was, and you’ve all been awfully dear and nice.  ’Kiss me quick and let me go,’ as the song says.  I only wish Burnet was next door to West Cedar Street!”