But when she does--' She frowned and meditated, but got no light on the problem.

Chattie jumped up on the windowsill, with her usual stealthy _aplomb_, and rubbed herself against the girl's face.
'Oh, Chattie!' cried Rose, throwing her arms round the cat, 'if Catherine 'll _only_ marry Mr.Elsmere, nay dear, and be happy ever afterward, and set me free to live my own life a bit, I'll be _so_ good, you won't know me, Chattie.

And you shall have a new collar, my beauty, and cream till you die of it!' And springing up she dragged in the cat, and snatching a scarlet anemone from a bunch on the table, stood opposite Chattie, who stood slowly waving her magnificent tail from side to side, and glaring as though it were not at all to her taste to be hustled and bustled in this way.
'Now, Chattie, listen! Will she ?' A leaf of the flower dropped on Chattie's nose.
'Won't she?
Will she?
Won't she?
Will--Tiresome flower, why did Nature give it such a beggarly few petals?
'If I'd had a daisy it would have all come right.

Come, Chattie, waltz; and let's forgot this wicked world!' And, snatching up her violin, the girl broke into a Strauss waltz, dancing to it the while, her cotton skirts flying, her pretty feet twinkling, till her eyes glowed, and her cheeks blazed with a double intoxication--the intoxication of movement, and the intoxication of sound--the cat meanwhile following her with little mincing, perplexed steps, as though not knowing what to make of her.
'Rose, you madcap!' cried Agnes, opening the door.
'Not at all, my dear,' said Rose calmly, stopping to take breath.
'Excellent practice and uncommonly difficult.

Try if you can do it, and see!' The weather held up in a gray, grudging, sort of way, and Mrs.
Thornburgh especially was all for braving the clouds and going on with the expedition.