There had been many sunny days with blue skies, and never a cloud in sight, when one day, to the surprise of everyone, the sky appeared to be a solid mass of dark, leaden clouds, and the sea that for such a long time had been glistening and sparkling, now showed only a dark sullen surface, with here and there a whitecap to break its monotony.

Rose and Polly had decided to remain indoors, and all the afternoon they had been busy sorting the shells that they had been collecting.

“I wish I had more of these,” said Polly, pointing to a little heap of oddly shaped shells, white in color, with here and there markings of soft brown.

“I wish so too,” Rose said.  “We’ve less of that kind than we have of any of the others.  I wonder how it happened that we didn’t get more of those?”

“I don’t know, but if it is pleasant to-morrow, let’s hunt for some,” said Polly.

Mrs. Sherwood called, and Polly putting the tray full of shells upon the table, went out across the hall to reply.

Rose hurried down stairs to the hall, out onto the piazza, along the flower bordered path to the gate, then out and off down the beach.

Polly never liked to be out when the sky was cloudy and the wind raw, but Rose cared not a bit, and she had gone out thinking to give Polly a surprise.

She meant to find some of the coveted shells, and run home with them before Polly should have missed her.

She looked back at the Sherwood cottage.  How pretty it was, and quite like a country house with its well kept lawn, its flowers in the gardens, and even at the gate, a rose vine clambering over.

Swiftly she ran along the beach to a spot where usually they had found the most shells.

A few there were, but none like those that Polly wanted, and she trudged along, looking sharply at every shell that lay imbedded in the hard, wet sand, from which the tide had receded.

She had been gone nearly an hour although she did not dream that it was so long since she had left the house.

She had known that Polly would not follow her, because of the cold wind that was blowing so briskly.  A rift in the clouds had let the sunlight through, and when she reached the gate, the garden was bathed in sunlight.

Rose paused for a moment to look at the flowers, now gay in the bright sunshine, when the sound of voices came toward her, and while one was the pleasant voice of Mrs. Sherwood, the other was surely the voice of ­Great Aunt Rose!

“Captain Atherton asked that Rose might remain with us while he is away,” Rose heard Mrs. Sherwood say to which the cold voice of Great Aunt Rose replied sternly: 

“Well, and if he did, I see no reason why she can not spend a part of the time with me at the old Atherton house which I have always felt was her proper home.”

Little Rose Atherton’s heart beat faster.  She still stood at the gate, and she wondered that, for a moment, neither spoke.

Then Great Aunt Rose broke the silence.

“I was away at the time of the wedding, but had I been present, I should have at that time insisted that the Captain leave her with me, not only during his cruise on the Dolphin, but after his return.

“The young woman whom he has married is a beauty, and so of course, will be too full of dress and society to have any interest in little Rose.  If John has chosen to wed a flighty beauty, he should at least give Rose to me.”

“Miss Vandmere is indeed beautiful to look at, but she is lovely in character as well, and I know that she loves Rose,” Mrs. Sherwood said quietly.

She would not argue, but she felt that, in justice she must give utterance to the fine regard in which she held Iris Vandmere.

“There are, I suppose, some beauties who are neither vain nor foolish, but however that may be, I am determined to see Rose to-day, and to ask her if she does not wish to return with me.”

At these words uttered in a shrill, angry voice, Rose turned and raced down the beach.

She dropped the shells that she had been tightly holding, and without a thought of recovering them, she ran at top speed, as if, at that very moment stately Great Aunt Rose had been actually chasing her.

She had no idea how far she had run, she had not paused for even a second, nor had she once looked back.  Now as she looked up, she saw a narrow side street that commenced at the shore, but well up from the water, and ran toward the center of the little village.

She was almost breathless as she turned into the little street, but she dared not stop running.

The very thought of ever returning to the stately old Atherton house, with its great dark halls, its formal drawing-room, and for companion, gentle Aunt Lois, kind but so deaf that it was almost impossible to talk with her, and cold, dignified, haughty Great Aunt Rose, filled little Rose with terror.

She was now completely tired out, and as she turned the corner of the next street, she stumbled, and would have fallen but for two strong arms that caught her.  She looked up.

“Why little Rose!”

“Oh, Aunt Judith!  Dear Aunt Judith, take me home with you now, right off, this very minute!” cried Rose.  “Don’t stop to ask why!  Just take me now!  Come!  They may be here any minute!  Come!”

“Why, Rose!  What does this mean?” cried Aunt Judith.

“I was on my way to call upon Mrs. Sherwood, and ask you and Polly to come up to my little cottage and spend to-morrow with me, and here you are, looking for all the world as if you were running away.  I musn’t run off with you like this.”

“Oh, but do, Aunt Judith.  Please do!  It isn’t safe to wait a minute.  I’ll tell you everything when we’re safe at your cottage.  Come!”

The fear in Rose’s brown eyes was so evident, that although it seemed a strange thing to do, Aunt Judith turned about, and with Rose clinging to her arm, started in the direction of the station.  A train was already made up, and about to start for Avondale.

They were soon seated, and Rose drew a sigh of relief when the train started.

“Now, I’m safe,” she said, leaning against Aunt Judith.

It was not until they were inside the cottage at Avondale, at twilight, the shades drawn and the lamps lighted that Rose told what had frightened her, and why she had run away.

“I don’t wonder that you were frightened,” Aunt Judith said.  “If John had been at home you would have been brave, but gentle Mrs. Sherwood seemed to you to be no match for Great Aunt Rose.  I do not think as you do.  For all her gentleness Mrs. Sherwood is a fine character, and I do not think she would permit anyone to take you from her home when you had been left in her care by your Uncle John.

“There is another thing to be thought of.  Great Aunt Rose has left the Sherwood cottage long before this, and Mrs. Sherwood and Princess Polly I believe are greatly frightened by your absence.  Don’t you know that they must have been searching for you now for at least two hours, and not finding you, they will fear that you have come to harm.

“If only you had told me what it was that had so frightened you, I would have returned with you to Mrs. Sherwood, and have helped convince your aunt that you could not go home with her.

“Great Aunt Rose would not actually take you by force.”

“Oh, she would!” cried Rose, “and I’m glad we’re here, but we can let them know that I am safe, and that I am here with you, and why I came.  I’d go back to them to-morrow if I knew Great Aunt Rose wouldn’t go there again, and try to get me.

“Oh, the great old Atherton house is so grand, and yet so lonely, and she doesn’t love me.  She was always telling me while I was there that the reason she wanted me to live there was because I was an Atherton, and she said the proper place for me to live was in the old Atherton house.

“She said there had always been a ‘Rose Atherton’ in the family even ’way, ’way back, and that every ‘Rose Atherton’ had lived in that house, and when I said I pitied them, she was angry, and she said I’d no reason to.  She said the others were proud of this family, and glad to live there, and that I was the odd one.  She said it was strange I’d rather live with Uncle John, and I said it wasn’t strange because he was so loving.

“Oh, I can’t bear to think of the time that I lived there, and I’m glad I ran away from Polly’s house before Great Aunt Rose saw me.  I know she would have snatched me away from the Sherwood’s.

“I was peeping in at the gate when I heard her voice.

“She was telling Mrs. Sherwood that I ought to go home and stay with her while Uncle John is away.

“I didn’t wait a minute, but raced down the beach just as fast as I could.  Then I thought if she came out, she might see me on the beach even at a distance, so I turned into a side street, and the next corner I turned brought me straight to you.”

There was indeed consternation in the Sherwood cottage when, after the unpleasant caller had left the house, Polly commenced to look for Rose, and no Rose could be found, though thorough search was made, the servants gladly assisting, and just as Polly was crying, and declaring that she could not taste the least bit of food until Rose was found, the telephone rang.

Glad news it was that Rose was safe with Aunt Judith, and Mrs. Sherwood and Polly accepted Aunt Judith’s invitation to come and spend the next day at her cottage.

Aunt Judith had gone a short distance to Mrs. Grafton’s house, and she had sent her message from there.

“Hurrah!” cried Harry, as Aunt Judith turned from the telephone.  “I’m glad it happened that Rose had to run away, for we’ve missed her all these weeks that she’s been spending at the shore.  We’ll be over to-morrow to see her, won’t we, Leslie?” and he gave one of Leslie’s long curls a sly twitch.

“We surely will, unless you pull all my hair out when I’d want to hide my head,” Leslie said, laughing.

“Oh, pshaw!  The way I pull your curls amounts to just love pats,” Harry cried.

“You wouldn’t say so if I twitched your hair like that,” Leslie responded.

“I guess I’ll go down and get my hair shingled so you won’t be able to get hold of it,” he said.  “Lend me a quarter, Leslie?  I spent all I had to-day on candy and a new bat.”

Leslie refused and Harry chased her, the two laughing as they ran.

“I never saw a brother and sister who played together so prettily,” Aunt Judith said.

“They are great chums,” Mrs. Grafton said.  “Of course Harry has his boy friends, and Leslie is very fond of Lena Lindsey, but for all that my boy and girl are fast friends, and they love each other dearly.”

“I like to see it,” Aunt Judith said.

She hurried back to the cottage where Rose at the window was eagerly watching for her.

“Mrs. Sherwood’s voice sounded very anxious when she replied to my call at the telephone, and the tone of quick relief when I told her that you were safe here at the cottage with me was very evident.

“Polly had cried until she was about sick, but of course, she will be all right now, and they will both be with us here to-morrow, for the day.”

“That will be fine,” cried Rose, “and you’ll set the larger table to-morrow, and make it look fine, but to-night, Aunt Judith, just to-night let’s have the little tea table, just as we used to when I lived here with you, with the pretty pale green dishes, and the dear little sugar and cream set with the pink moss-rose buds on it.  May we, Aunt Judith?”

Aunt Judith came and took the pretty face between her two hands, and looked into the eager brown eyes for a moment.

“We’ll have our little tea just as we used to, because it will please you, and because I’d like nothing better,” she said.

“And let me help at the table, just as I used to,” Rose said, and together they worked, Rose bringing the rosebud china, while Aunt Judith brought the pale green plates, and cups and saucers from the little china closet, and placed them upon the dainty, spindle-legged table.  There were tiny, fresh rolls, chocolate with cream, a dish of raspberry jam of which Rose was very fond, and even the little round pound cakes that Rose so well remembered.  Aunt Judith had sent a small boy to purchase them for her while she was telephoning at Mrs. Grafton’s.

When all was ready, they took their places, Aunt Judith pouring the chocolate, while Rose served the cream from the dainty jug, and dropped the cubes of sugar from the quaint little silver tongs.

“Aunt Judith, I’m so happy with Uncle John, that everything I have at his home seems perfect, but there’s one queer thing that I don’t understand.  No raspberry jam ever seems just like the jam I always had at this cottage.”

Aunt Judith was delighted.

“To think that you would always remember the jam, and think it a bit nicer than any other!” she said.

“Perhaps it was because we were choice of it, and served it on Sundays and holidays that made you think it extra nice.”

Rose leaned toward her and laid her hand upon her arm.  “And perhaps it was because you always kept the jam in that lovely cream colored crock that has the butterflies upon it.  I do believe things taste nicer for being kept in pretty jars like that.”

“I think so, too,” Aunt Judith said, “but your Uncle John has beautiful china, so doubtless his housekeeper could find plenty of pretty dishes for serving.”

“Oh, she does,” Rose replied, “but in the closet, the jam is kept in a stone crock, while yours was always in the butterfly jar that I always thought so lovely.”

“The dearest thing about this cosy little tea is the fact-” Aunt Judith bent to kiss her cheek, “that I have you for my guest, little Rose.”