“I’m glad I know; p’r’aps I can be a peace-maker.  Mamma says they are good to have in families, and I’d like to be one if I could.  Would you mind if I tried to peace-make a little, so I could come over?  I do want to see the red birds and the tiger skin awfully, if you please.”

“What do you know about ’em?” asked the old gentleman, sitting down on a garden chair, as if he didn’t mind continuing the chat with this new neighbor.

Nearly tumbling off the wall in her earnestness, Rosy repeated all that Cousin Penny had said; and something in the reasonable words, the flattering description of his treasures, and the sincere regret of the old lady seemed to have a good effect upon Mr. Dover, for when Rosy paused out of breath, he said in such an altered tone that it was evident the peacemaking had already begun,—­

“Miss Carey is a gentlewoman!  I always thought so.  You tell her, with my compliments, that I’d be glad to see you any time if she has no objection.  I’ll put my step-ladder there, and you can come over instead of the cat.  But mind you don’t meddle, or I might give you a toss like Tabby.”

“I’m not afraid,” laughed Rosy.  “I’ll go and ask right away, and I won’t touch a thing, and I know you’ll like me for a friend.  Papa says I’m a dear little one.  Thank you very much, sir.  Good-by till I come again;” and with a kiss of the hand, the yellow head sunk out of sight like the sun going down, leaving a sense of darkness behind when the beaming little face disappeared, though fresh stains of green mould from the wall made it rather like the tattooed countenances Mr. Dover used to see among his cannibal friends in Africa.

He sat musing with the dead chicken in his hand, forgetful of time, till a ring of his own door-bell called him in to receive a note from Miss Penelope, thanking him for his invitation to little Rosamond, but declining it in the most polite and formal words.

“I expected it!  Bless the silly old souls! why can’t they be reasonable, and accept the olive branch when I offer it?  I’ll be hanged if I do again!  The fat one is at the bottom of this.  Miss Pen would give in if that absurd Henrietta didn’t hold her back.  Well, I’m sorry for the child, but that’s not my fault;” and throwing down the note, he went out to water his roses.

For a week or two, Button-Rose hardly dared glance toward the forbidden spot from her window, as she was ordered to play in the front garden, and sent to take sober walks with Cicely, who loved to stop and gossip with her friends, while the poor child waited patiently till the long tales were told.

Nursing Tabby was her chief consolation; and so kind was she, that the heart of the old cat softened to her, and she actually purred her thanks at last, for all the saucers of cream, bits of chicken, soft pats, and tender words bestowed upon her by the little girl.

“Well, I declare!  Tab won’t do that even for me,” said Miss Henny, one day when she came upon the child sitting alone in the hall with a picture-book and the cat comfortably asleep in her lap.