“Yes; they were bosom friends before I was born,” her mother said with a far-away look in her eyes.

“Then you must have been very much younger than he, Grandma Elsie,” remarked Grace, half inquiringly.

“Sixteen years younger.  I was in my ninth year when I saw him first, and more than twice that age before I thought of him as anything but a dear, kind friend—­my father’s friend and mine.”

“And after that he seemed to you to grow younger, did he not, mamma?” asked Rosie.

“Yes; when he joined us in Europe I had not seen him for two years, and as regarded age he seemed to have been standing still while I grew up to him; and in the daily and intimate intercourse of those months I learned that his worth was far greater than that of any other man of my acquaintance—­excepting my father.  Ah, there was never a better man, a truer friend, a kinder, more devoted husband and father than he.”

The sweet voice trembled with emotion; she paused for a moment, then went on: 

“He does not seem dead to me—­he is not dead, but only gone before into the immediate presence of the dear Master, where I hope one day to join him for an eternity of bliss.

            “’’Tis there we’ll meet
               At Jesus’ feet,
          When we meet to part no more.’”

Again there was a brief silence, presently broken by the coming of the captain and his two younger children.  All three seemed pleased to find Rosie there, greeted her affectionately, and then the captain remarked, glancing from one to another: 

“It strikes me that you are all looking about as grave as if assembled to discuss the affairs of the nation.  Can I have a voice in the subject, whatever it is?”

“Yes, Brother Levis,” replied Rosie, “I am trying to make arrangements for—­doing what you have done twice.  And perhaps, since you have had so much practice, you may be more capable than these other friends and relatives of giving me advice.”

“Something that I have done twice?  What can that be?”

“Will Croly wants to help me,” returned Rosie with a laugh and a blush.

“Ah! now I understand.  Is the vexing question as to the colour and material of the wedding gown?”

“Mamma thinks the first thing is to settle when the ceremony is to be performed.  She does not seem to sympathise in Will’s haste to have it over.”

“Which is not at all surprising,” returned the captain, glancing at his two older daughters.  “I can quite understand the feeling.  But what is the time proposed by Will?”

“June of this year.”

“June seems a very suitable month, but if you were my daughter I should say not June of this year—­since you are both young enough to wait for that of next or the year after.”

“Ah, sir! that was not the way you talked when you wanted to rob mamma of one of her daughters.”

“No; but I was some years older than Mr. Croly is now, and your sister Violet very womanly in her ways.”