along who was charming to her, and she could have sunk into the ground with shame when Mrs. Fisher presently laughed, and she realized by the shock it gave her that the sound was entirely new.  Not once before had she or any one else there heard Mrs. Fisher laugh.  What an indictment of the lot of them!  For they had all laughed, the others, some more and some less, at one time or another since their arrival, and only Mrs. Fisher had not.  Clearly, since she could enjoy herself as she was now enjoying herself, she had not enjoyed herself before.  Nobody had cared whether she did or not, except perhaps Lotty.  Yes; Lotty had cared, and had wanted her to be happy; but Lotty seemed to produce a bad effect on Mrs. Fisher, while as for Rose herself she had never been with her for five minutes without wanting, really wanting, to provoke and oppose her.

How very horrid she had been.  She had behaved unpardonably.  Her penitence showed itself in a shy and deferential solicitude towards Mrs. Fisher which made the observant Briggs think her still more angelic, and wish for a moment that he were an old lady himself in order to be behaved to by Rose Arbuthnot just like that.  There was evidently no end, he thought, to the things she could do sweetly.  He would even not mind taking medicine, really nasty medicine, if it were Rose Arbuthnot bending over him with the dose.

She felt his bright blue eyes, the brighter because he was so sunburnt, fixed on her with a twinkle in them, and smiling asked him what he was thinking about.

But he couldn’t very well tell her that, he said; and added, “Some day.”

“Trouble, trouble,” thought Mr. Wilkins at this, again mentally rubbing his hands.  “Well, I’m their man.”

“I’m sure,” said Mrs. Fisher benignly, “you have no thoughts we may not hear.”

“I’m sure,” said Briggs, “I would be telling you every one of my secrets in a week.”

“You would be telling somebody very safe, then,” said Mrs. Fisher benevolently—­just such a son would she have liked to have had.  “And in return,” she went on, “I daresay I would tell you mine.”

“Ah no,” said Mr. Wilkins, adapting himself to this tone of easy badinage, “I must protest.  I really must.  I have a prior claim, I am the older friend.  I have known Mrs. Fisher ten days, and you, Briggs, have not yet known her one.  I assert my right to be told her secrets first.  That is,” he added, bowing gallantly, “if she has any—­which I beg leave to doubt.”

“Oh, haven’t I!” exclaimed Mrs. Fisher, thinking of those green leaves.  That she should exclaim at all was surprising, but that she should do it with gaiety was miraculous.  Rose could only watch her in wonder.

“Then I shall worm them out,” said Briggs with equal gaiety.

“They won’t need much worming out,” said Mrs. Fisher.  “My difficulty is to keep them from bursting out.”

It might have been Lotty talking.  Mr. Wilkins adjusted the single eyeglass he carried with him for occasions like this, and examined Mrs. Fisher carefully.  Rose looked on, unable not to smile too since Mrs. Fisher seemed so much amused, though Rose did not quite know why, and her smile was a little uncertain, for Ms. Fisher amused was a new sight, not without its awe-inspiring aspects, and had to be got accustomed to.