him back in the old place, and was gone. At the gate she was met by her attendant, Rob.
“What did he say?” inquired that youth, as she reappeared.
“Not very much, but I don’t think he objected.”
The next two days were as busy to Bess as they were long to Fred, who no longer envied the coal-heaver. A room adjoining Bessie’s was to be given up to the boy, and she took much care and pleasure in arranging it.
“I feel just like a child with a new doll,” she told her mother. “I want this room to be just as pretty and inviting as if Fred could see it.”
By Tuesday noon, the room was ready, even to the tiny vase on the table, holding one pink rosebud.
“Boys do care for such things, though they don’t say much about it,” Bess told her mother and Rob, whom she had invited to inspect the results of her labors. “That sofa is my especial delight, though,” she added, pointing to the broad, old-fashioned couch between two western windows, where Fuzz lay serenely asleep on one of the cushions. “That can be Fred’s
