The wind is blowing right in on you." She made a motion to close it, stepping between Rose and Horace, but the young man sprang to his feet.

"Let me close it, Mrs.Whitman," said he, and did so.
"It ain't late enough in the season to set right beside an open window and let the wind blow in on you," said Sylvia, severely.

She drew up a rocking-chair and sat down.

She formed the stern apex of a triangle of which Horace and Rose were the base.

She leaned back and rocked.
"It is a pleasant night," said she, as if answering Rose's remark, "but to me there's always something sort of sad about moonlight nights.