"
"Yes. Haven't we?" said Dimple, looking sober.
"Don't talk about it any more," said Rock. "It makes my Cousin Eleanor
feel bad."
This made Dimple smile, and presently they saw coming up the street a
carriage, which they felt sure would stop.
They all ran down to the gate, and the carriage did draw up by the
sidewalk, and Rock was the first to open the door of it, and in another
minute was in his mother's arms.
Then they all went into the house, and made ready for tea.
All that evening Dimple sat with one arm around Florence; and, although
Rock was so glad to see his mother, he said that he would have Dimple so
short a time that he must sit by her, and the three children sat on the
steps, Rock holding Dimple's hand and trying his best to cheer her up.
But a more doleful face than appeared at the breakfast table could not
be found.
"You must get your Aunt Dora and Florence some nice flowers to take
with them," said Mrs. Dallas to Dimple.
"My Aunt Dora! How queer that is, mamma. I have been wondering, is he
Rock Hardy or Rock Dallas?"
"He is Rock Hardy."
"I never will get it straight," she said, as she went to get the
flowers.
"Uncle Heath," she said, after she had laid the flowers in damp cotton,
and put them in boxes, "you may be very happy, but I am not, and I wish
you'd leave Rock with me.
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