table with alacrity; for these hours in the little room were his best and happiest.
"Order is heaven's first law, and the view a lovely one, but I don't see any note-paper," he added, opening the desk and surveying its contents with interest.
"Right-hand drawer: violet monogram for the notes; plain paper for the business letter. I'll see to that, though," answered Rose, trying to decide whether Annabel or Emma should have the laced handkerchief.
"Confiding creature! Suppose I open the wrong drawer, and come upon the tender secrets of your soul?" continued the new secretary, rummaging out the delicate note-paper with masculine disregard of order.
"I haven't got any," answered Rose, demurely.
"What, not one despairing scrawl, one cherished miniature, one faded floweret, etc., etc.? I can't believe it, cousin," and he shook his head incredulously.
"If I had, I certainly should not show them to you, impertinent person! There are a few little souvenirs in that desk, but nothing very sentimental or interesting."
"How I'd like to see 'em! But I should never dare to ask," observed Charlie, peering over the top of the half-open lid with a most persuasive pair of eyes.
"You may if you want to, but you'll be disappointed, Paul Pry. Lower left-hand drawer with the key in it."
