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Quite suddenly, without any transition or warning, she knew. She could feel her heart stand perfectly still for a minute, and then plunge forward in mad flight, racing, racing oh, it knew, too, that eager heart! She took her hand from the arm of the chair, releasing Rosemary's wrist very gently. "Yes, of course, it's the heat," she said quietly.
But the next hard day, when everything seemed to go wrong from breakfast time to the dinner hour, no Jack was at hand to listen to Rosemary's recital. He had gone away for a week's fishing trip with his father. The day started with a pitched battle between Winnie and Sarah after breakfast, over the question of feeding the cat the top of the milk.
"No, please don't," begged Rosemary. "If we're going to do anything we'll have to do it very soon. This can't last much longer!" Floyd did not stop to ask his sister just what she meant. In fact he did not dare question her as to what it was that could not last "much longer." He had a desperate fear that it was Rosemary's own spirit that was on the point of breaking.
"Mother does love roses so," said Rosemary once, "and Hugh is determined to surprise her with a lot of new bushes." "Is that why you're named Rosemary?" asked Jack curiously, thinking it strange that he had never noticed before how pretty freckles were. Rosemary's expressive face sobered. "Partly," she answered, "but I had a sister, you know, whom I never saw. She was named Mary, for Mother.
A dry sob rose in his throat, just at the very moment when Nurse Rosemary's voice gave way. Garth recovered first. Without lifting his head, with a gesture of protective affection and sympathy, he stretched his hand across the table. "Poor little girl," he said, "I am so sorry. It is rough on you. If only it had come when Brand was here!
But that night Rosemary spent half an hour before her mirror, trying to coax her bobbed curls into a knot like Nina Edmonds'. Rosemary's hair was growing very fast and she had promised Doctor Hugh not to have it cut again. Just now it was an awkward length, but its curliness redeemed even that.
She was dancing for chance coppers outside a San Francisco saloon when first he made his offer. She refused." Rosemary's soft eyes were suddenly lowered. She did not look like a child any longer, but a being sexless, yet very pitiful an angel about to weep. Courteney watched her, for he could not turn away.
Of course, he couldn't know that Angel and she were in this town, because it was only about a month since they came. It must be difficult to hear things in ships; and he might go away, to look for them somewhere else, without ever finding them here. Little thrills of excitement running from Rosemary's fingers to her toes felt like vibrating wires. What could she do?
"Is the alpaca all gone?" asked Grandmother. "Yes," Matilda replied. "I used the last of it patchin' Rosemary's dress under the arms. It beats all how hard she is on her clothes." "I'll have to order more," sighed the old lady. "I suppose the price has gone up again." Rosemary's breath came and went quickly; her heart fluttered with a sudden wildness.
It was a sight to turn the brain of Madame in the magasin of smart "confections," nor would the presiding genius of the toy shop have gone scathless, for Rosemary's possessions had not been spared by the cyclone. Dolls had lost their wigs, their arms, their legs; and beautiful blue eyes had been poked into far recesses of porcelain heads, with ruthless scissors.
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