It was almost morning when Dorothy fell into an unquiet sleep, and it was glaring daylight, with the sun streaming into her window, when she awoke. Rose-Mary was moving about the room on tip-toe after some things, feeling the necessity of allowing Dorothy all possible rest, as she had appeared so exhausted after her experience of the previous day.
“I’m so sorry you are going away to-morrow,” spoke Rose-Mary, seeing that Dorothy was awake. “This is the last day we will have together for some time. I have enjoyed your visit so much.”
“I’m afraid I’ve been rather stupid,” apologized Dorothy, feeling as if she must make some excuse for her seeming indifference to Rose-Mary’s entertainment. “But, Cologne dear, I can never tell you how grateful I am for this chance to see Buffalo. It seems as if I had really entered a new world since I came into this big city.”
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed everything, dear,” said Rose-Mary. “But you must rest to-day and not go sight-seeing any more. You will need to be fresh for your auto trip to-morrow morning.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll rest to-day,” replied Dorothy, as she slipped into her dressing-gown and approached the dresser. There she found a dainty array of remembrances Cologne had selected for her to take home. This was a surprise and it told Dorothy more plainly than words could, that Rose-Mary loved her, and so loved to make her happy.
There were some exquisite bits of undecorated china for Dorothy to add to her collection of hand-painted pieces, there was a “darling” little traveling mirror from Mrs. Markin, and Jack, who would not be left out in spite of his sister’s protestations that a strange young man could not give a young lady a present even if it was a sort of souvenir of Buffalo, had made Rose-Mary place on the table with the other tokens a cute little pocket camera. He secretly hoped his sister would just hint to Dorothy that he had selected it.
Such an array quite overpowered Dorothy and she threw her arms about Rose-Mary’s neck and cried as if her heart would break.
She calmed down after a while, but even when she and Rose-Mary were dressed the two had little spells of weeping at the thought of parting. Jack peeped in at the door, but when he saw his sister and Dorothy in an embrace, with tears in their eyes, he hurried away, muttering something about “fool girls crying when they’re happy,” and he “guessed he wouldn’t hang around to spoil their fun, if that was what they called a merry time.”