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 Dr. Alec writing in his own sanctum; at least, Rose thought so, till his step made her hastily drop the book, and look up with very much the expression she used to wear when caught in mischief years ago.

"Did I startle you? Have a screen: you are burning your face before this hot fire." And Dr. Alec pulled one forward.

"Thank you, uncle; I didn't feel it." And the color seemed to deepen in spite of the screen, while the uneasy eyes fell upon the book in her lap.

"Have you got the 'Quarterly' there? I want to glance at an article in it, if you can spare it for a moment," he said, leaning toward her with an inquiring glance.

"No, sir: I am reading—" And, without mentioning the name, Rose put the book into his hand.

The instant his eye fell on the title, he understood the look she wore, and knew what "mischief" she had been in. He knit his brows: then smiled, because it was impossible to help it; Rose looked so conscience-stricken in spite of her twenty years.

"How do you find it?—interesting?"

"Oh, very! I felt as if I was in another world, and forgot all about this."

"Not a very good world, I fancy, if you were afraid or ashamed to be found in it. Where did this come from?" asked Dr. Alec, surveying the book with great disfavor.

Rose told him, and added slowly,—