It was bedtime one night, and after Rosanna had been tucked in her grandmother came up. She had been doing this ever since Rosanna came home and the little girl had learned to long for the little talks they had together. But this night Mrs. Horton sat down in the big chair, and told Rosanna to come into her arms. Cuddled there on her grandmother’s lap, Rosanna rested while they had a talk that neither of them ever forgot. For the first time Rosanna learned all about the little sister, and Mrs. Horton in her turn came to know something of the thoughts and loneliness and longings that go on in a little girl’s mind. Rosanna told her grandmother all about it, and if Mrs. Horton hugged her so tight that it almost hurt and cried over her short hair, Rosanna felt all the happier for it.

And Mrs. Horton forgot that she was a proud and haughty lady (indeed she was really never that again) and told Rosanna how sorry she was that she had been unloving because she had really never meant her cold manner. She made Rosanna understand that she had always loved her but never, never so deeply or so tenderly as now. And Rosanna begged her forgiveness for running away, and for cutting off her hair. So by-and-by they commenced to talk of happier things, feeling very near and dear to each other the while.

It was such a wonderful talk that Rosanna felt that never again would she be unhappy.

Before her grandmother left, she told Rosanna that Helen was coming over the following day to take luncheon with her. Minnie had a table set in the broad bay window, and there the luncheon was spread. They scarcely ate at first, they were so glad to see each other. Almost the first thing that Rosanna asked was news of Gwenny. Helen had seen her often and her mother thought that she was slowly growing worse. Helen had been to a meeting at the Girl Scouts and had told them about Gwenny. Perhaps something would be done a little later. Tommy was just as selfish as ever. Helen said it was awfully hard not to dislike him.

“I don’t even try to like him,” said Rosanna. “I don’t see how you can be as good and kind as you are, Helen.”

“Why, I don’t like the feeling it gives me when I dislike people,” said Helen.

“How do you feel?” asked Rosanna. “I never thought about how it makes me feel.”

“I don’t know as I can tell exactly,” said Helen, thinking hard. “Sort of as though you were walking over rough cobblestones. I just don’t like it. And I feel as though it does something to my color. Just as though I was all lovely pink or blue, and hating or disliking someone made me turn the most horrid sort of plum color.”

“How funny you are, Helen! When are you going away on your Girl Scout camping trip? Isn’t it almost time?”

Helen looked embarrassed. “I am not going,” she said.

“Not going?” echoed Rosanna. “Oh, Helen, how awful! And you have been planning so long for that. Why are you going to give it up?”

“I just changed my mind,” she said.

“You don’t change it away from such a lovely trip if you can help it,” Rosanna persisted. “Helen, I believe Helen, I want you to tell me the truth now. I declare I believe you have given it up on account of me!”

“Well, then I have,” said Helen. “Indeed, Rosanna, I would not have a good time at all off on that trip knowing that you were here just getting well and perhaps missing me. I couldn’t do it!”

Rosanna could hardly speak.

“I just think you are a real true friend, Helen!” she said finally. “I don’t think you ought to give up your good times and I can’t thank you enough.”

“I wouldn’t enjoy it without you,” persisted Helen. “Aren’t you thrilled about your uncle’s little orphan? And did you ever see anyone so happy as Mrs. Hargrave?”

“Never!” said Rosanna. “She has been telling me all about the room she is having decorated. It must be too beautiful!”

“It is,” said Helen. “I went over there the other day and saw it. You never saw anything so cunning in your life. All the furniture is enameled cream color, with lovely little wreaths of flowers on it. Even her brush and comb and those things are painted ivory. And the walls! In each corner is a little cottage, right on the wall paper you know, Rosanna, and between just woods that look as though you were seeing them through a mist sort of delicate and far away. And the rugs are a soft delicate green like the grass in spring. I hope she is lovely enough for all the love Mrs. Hargrave is going to give her.”

“Uncle Robert says she is as sweet as she can possibly be,” Rosanna assured her. “Well, you are just too good to stay at home with me, Helen. It won’t be long before we are both Girl Scouts. And I think you are just as good and sweet as you can be. I can’t think what I would have done without you. But here you are actually giving up your camping for me.”

Rosanna leaned over and impulsively kissed her guest.

“Dear Helen, I am so happy,” she said, “because now I know that I am really your best friend.”