She thought the same.
Rose made up to the conclave under the maple.
The voices hushed as they approached.
'Capital weather,' said Rose.

'Does Harry come back from London to-morrow--does anybody know ?' 'Not aware,' Laxley was heard to reply.
'I want to speak a word to you, Rose,' said Mrs.Shorne.
'With the greatest pleasure, my dear aunt': and Rose walked after her.
'My dear Rose,' Mrs.Shorne commenced, 'your conduct requires that I should really talk to you most seriously.

You are probably not aware of what you are doing: Nobody likes ease and natural familiarity more than I do.

I am persuaded it is nothing but your innocence.

You are young to the world's ways, and perhaps a little too headstrong, and vain.' 'Conceited and wilful,' added Rose.
'If you like the words better.