Suddenly Celia held out her hand; "Oh, Allan, I am so very bad-tempered. I seem always determined to quarrel," she said, with a laugh that was half a sob.

This was enough, the strain was broken; Allan forsook the arm-chair for the settle.

It was perhaps some fifteen minutes later when he asked Celia if she remembered the magician, and the tiger with three white whiskers. "What a brave little girl you were," he added.

"Little goose," said Celia.

"Does that mean you will no longer follow me blindly?"

She laughed. "What made you think of it?" she asked.

"Rosalind inquired the other day if I was the boy."

"Allan, I don't know why I told the children that story."

"At least it gave me the courage to try my fate."

"I don't think it required much courage."

"You don't know," Allan replied, smiling over her head. "But now, dearest, we are going to begin again and live in a fairy tale and forget all the hard and cruel things. Do you know, I had a vision that day, in the library of the old house? I saw a fire of blazing logs, and you and I sat before it, and we weren't quarrelling."

"Dear old house! I can't bear to look at it now," Celia sighed.

"I am sorry to hear that, for I was planning to live there."

"Allan--you? Wasn't it sold?"

"I bought it through an agent. I thought perhaps I might want to sell again if--if things did not come out as I hoped."

"Even then you were thinking about it?"

"I have thought of nothing else since the day I saw you on the stairs with your arm around Belle."

"How unhappy I was! I did not dream that you still cared. It seems so long ago. Did you know your mother came to see me, Allan?"

"Yes. She has keen eyes; she knew what it meant to me. Poor mother!"

"I thought I could never forgive, but I believe I do now,--not always,--but I shall after a while."

Allan pressed his lips to the hand he held; then, still holding it, he took the little case from his pocket and put the sapphire ring on her finger. "I hope Cousin Betty will be satisfied now," he remarked.

Celia looked down at the quaint old ring. "How much it seems to stand for!" she said. "Rosalind will be glad," she added. "Do you know, I did not realize how bitter and unhappy I was until I met her one day in the cemetery. Her eyes were so sweet, they made me ashamed."

"She told me about it," Allan answered.

"Not about the rose? Did she see that? Oh, Allan--but I picked it up again and carried it home."

"She long since came to the conclusion that she was mistaken in thinking it was her rose you threw away."

It was growing dark. The magician, who had come in long ago, wisely refrained from interrupting his guests, but went about putting away his tools and smiling to himself. He was just lighting his lamp, when the shop door opened and Rosalind danced in, followed by her father.

"Mr. Pat!" exclaimed the magician. "I heard you were here. I wondered if you wouldn't come to see me;" and he shook hinds as if he would never stop, while Rosalind circled around them merrily.

"Mr. Pat was one of my boys," Morgan announced, as if it were a piece of news; adding, "We ought to make some tea."

Rosalind clapped her hands, and nodded emphatically, "Let's!" she cried.

"Why, there's Uncle Allan! Where did you come from?"

"I arrived at home a few hours ago and found n.o.body, so I started out in search of some one. How are you, Patterson?" and the brothers clasped hands warmly.

"We are going to have tea, just as I did that day when I was so lonely, and--here's Miss Celia!" Rosalind paused in surprise.

Celia stood rather shyly in the door. She would gladly have escaped if she could.

At Rosalind's exclamation, Allan drew his brother forward. "You remember Celia Fair, Patterson?" he said.

"Certainly I do. She was about Rosalind's age when I last saw her."

"I remember you very well, Mr. Whittredge," Celia said, as Patterson took both her hands, and looked into her glowing face.

"I haven't been told anything, but--" he glanced inquiringly at Allan, who nodded, smiling.

Rosalind caught sight of the ring on Celia's finger. "Oh," she said, "was that what the will meant? Are you going to wear it always? I know Aunt Patricia would be glad!" and she hugged Celia joyfully.

That what followed was a childish performance cannot be denied, but alas for those who do not sometimes enjoy putting away grown-up dignity!

Rosalind had set her heart on having tea, and the magician was no less pleased at the idea. He lighted up and filled the kettle, and she set the table, while the others looked on and laughed.

"I began being a boy again four months ago, and I like it. How old are you?" Allan asked, pa.s.sing Celia her cup.

"About six," she answered.

"Then I am ten."

"Then you are too little for me to play with," said Rosalind. "How old are you, father?"

"If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose."

"Here's to the magician!" cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's health right merrily.

"I drink to the ring which has come to its own again," said Rosalind's father; and so the fun went on.

Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more.

"Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret," she proposed.

In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in.

"Well!" she exclaimed, "I think you might have asked me."