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“There, now see what you’ve done! Pick up every one, and be quick, for I’m in a hurry.”

“But I didn’t touch ’em,” began poor Button, as she crept about hunting for the black and white beads that looked like very ugly marbles.

“Don’t talk; pick them up and then scamper; you are always in mischief!” scolded Cis, vexed with herself, and the heat, and the accident, and the whole world just then.

Rosy said no more, but several great tears dropped on the carpet as she groped in corners, under the bed, and behind the chairs for the run-aways; and when the last was found she put it in her tyrant’s hand, saying, with a wistful look,–

“I’m very sorry I troubled you. Seems to me if I had a little cousin, I’d love to have her play with my things, and I wouldn’t be cross to her. Now I’ll go and try to AMOOSE myself with Bella; SHE is always good to me.”

“Run along then. Thank goodness that doll came when it did, for I’m tired of ‘amoosing’ small girls as well as old ladies,” said Cis, busy with her beads, yet sorry she had been so petulant with patient little Button, who seldom reproached her, being a cheery child, and blessed with a sweet temper.

Rosy felt too languid to play; so when she had told Bella, the London doll, her trials, and comforted herself with some kisses on the waxen cheeks, she roamed away to the summer-house, which was cool and quiet, longing for some one to caress her; for the little heart was homesick and the little head ached badly.

The “button-hole” had been made, the alley swept out, to the great dismay of the spiders, earwigs, and toads, who had fled to quieter quarters, and Rosy had leave to go and come when she liked if Mr. Dover did not object. He never did; and it was her greatest delight to walk in the pretty garden at her own sweet will, always with the hope of meeting its kindly owner, for now they were firm friends. She had been too busy for a run there that day; and now, as she peeped in, it looked so shady and inviting, and it seemed so natural to turn to her dear “missionary man” for entertainment, that she went straight up to his study window and peeped in.

He too seemed out of sorts that hot afternoon, for he sat leaning his head on both hands at the desk strewn with piles of old letters. Button-Rose’s tender heart yearned over him at once, and stepping quietly in at the long open window she went to him, saying in her tenderest tone,–

“Does your head ache, sir? Let me soft it as I do Papa’s; he says that always makes it more better. Please let me? I’d love to dearly.”

“Ah, my darling, I wish you could. But the pain is in my heart, and nothing will ever cure it,” sighed Mr. Thomas, as he drew her close and put his wrinkled yellow cheek to her soft one, which looked more like a damask rose than usual.

“You have trials too, I s’pose. Mine trouble me to-day, so I came over to see you. Shall I go away?” asked Rosy with a sigh and the wistful look again.

“No, stay, and we will comfort each other. Tell me your troubles, Button, and perhaps I can help them,” the kind old gentleman said as he took her on his knee and stroked the curly head with a paternal touch.

So Rosy told her latest grief, and never saw the smile that crept about the lips that asked in a tone of deep interest,–

“Well, what do you mean to do to that unkind Cicely?”

“For a minute I wanted to slap her back when she tried to spat my hands. Then I ‘membered that Mamma said a kiss for a blow was a good thing, so I picked up the beads and planned to do it; but Cis looked SO cross I couldn’t. If I had a pretty necklace I’d go and give it to her, and then maybe she’d love me better.”