"Oh, I would like that," cried Faith. "I love birds. Only—would Aunt Martha's cat eat it? It's so tragic to have your pets eaten. I don't think I could endure it a second time."
"If you hang the cage far enough from the wall I don't think the cat could harm it. I'll tell you just how to take care of it and I'll bring it to Ingleside for you the next time I come down."
To herself, Rosemary was thinking,
"It will give every gossip in the Glen something to talk of, but I will not care. I want to comfort this poor little heart."
Faith was comforted. Sympathy and understanding were very sweet. She and Miss Rosemary sat on the old pine until the twilight crept softly down over the white valley and the evening star shone over the gray maple grove. Faith told Rosemary all her small history and hopes, her likes and dislikes, the ins and outs of life at the manse, the ups and downs of school society. Finally they parted firm friends.
Mr. Meredith was, as usual, lost in dreams when supper began that evening, but presently a name pierced his abstraction and brought him back to reality. Faith was telling Una of her meeting with Rosemary.
"She is just lovely, I think," said Faith. "Just as nice as Mrs. Blythe—but different. I felt as if I wanted to hug her. She did hug me—such a nice, velvety hug. And she called me 'dearest.' It thrilled me. I could tell her anything."
