But truly, truly, I won't.

I--darling, you mustn't cry--please, don't--because you are making me cry.

I cried in my sleep, too....

I ought to be very happy--" She forced a laugh through the bright tears fringing her lashes, bent forward swiftly, kissed Kathleen, and sprang from the bed.
"I want my bath and breakfast!" she cried.

"If I'm to be a Louis XVI doll this week, it's time my face was washed and my sawdust reinforced.
Do fix my tray, dear, while I'm in the bath--and ring for my maid....
And when you go down you may tell Duane to wait for me on the stairs.
It's good discipline; he'll find it stupid because I'll be a long time--but, oh, Kathleen, it is perfectly heavenly to bully him!" * * * * * Later she sent a note to him by her maid: "TO THE ONLY MAN IN THE WORLD, ON THE STAIRS.
"_Patient Sir_: If you will go to the large beech-tree beyond Hurryon Gate and busy yourself by carving upon it certain initials intertwined within the circumscribed outlines of a symbol popularly supposed to represent a human heart, your industry will be presently and miraculously rewarded by the apparition of her who presumably occupies no inconsiderable place in your affections." At the Hurryon Gate Duane found Rosalie trying to unlock it, a dainty, smiling Rosalie, fresh as a blossom, and absurdly like a schoolgirl with her low-cut collar, snowy neck, and the thick braid of hair.