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Updated: May 29, 2025
"What children you are!" Celia laughed, and her face was full of brightness as she descended the stairs with Belle beside her, the others following. Three steps from the bottom she came face to face with Allan Whittredge and Katherine. Celia hated herself for her burning cheeks as she bowed gravely.
Allan Whittredge, strolling up the hill toward the Gilpin place late in the afternoon, became aware of a dejected figure approaching, which presently resolved itself into Katherine Roberts, who paused every few minutes to press her handkerchief to her eyes. "Why, Katherine, what is the trouble?" he asked, when he reached her side. She stood still, not answering, and with her eyes covered.
"Cousin Betty; and she told us the story of Patricia's ring, Uncle Allan, don't you wish we could find it?" Allan Whittredge smiled at the eager face. "I can't say I care much about it," he replied; then seeing her disappointment, he added, "It was a handsome old ring. Should you like to have it?" "I'd like to see it; but of course it wasn't meant for me.
Belle and Maurice were in fits of laughter. Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the girls at once noted that she wore pink. "Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton "
I must have left it on the grass." "I believe Rosalind seldom loses an opportunity to speak to people. Miss Herbert says she is on quite intimate terms with Morgan," remarked Miss Genevieve. "Father told me about Morgan," Rosalind began apologetically, adding more confidently, "I like to know people." "Your father over again," Mrs. Whittredge said, smiling. "What is your book, dear?"
I will forgive; I will try to forget." Mrs. Whittredge lifted her head. Her face was drawn and white. "I cannot forget," she said; "it is my misery. But I have no wish to make other lives as unhappy as my own. Will you believe me when I say I regret the wrong I did, and that I want to interfere with no one's happiness hereafter?" "I will believe it," Celia said, holding out her hand. Mrs.
The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her niece to the door. "Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy. "Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.
Whittredge was rigid where table manners were concerned. Rosalind might not be excused until every one had finished; and to-day Uncle Allan dallied over his dessert, discussing business and the new mills with his mother, while Rosalind's impatience grew.
Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is that?" "Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble her," her mother replied. Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said.
Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different from the defiance of a few weeks ago. "I didn't know there was any one here," she said; adding, "Mr. Whittredge, I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I was unreasonable I am sorry." The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart.
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