"Sometimes and about some things, you do me a great injustice, Major,"

answered Phoebe slowly, with a serious look into the keen eyes bent upon

hers. "Of all the 'glad crowd', as David calls us, I am the only woman

who comes directly in contact with the struggling, working, hand-to-hand

fight of life, and I can't help letting it affect me in my judgment

of--of us. I can't forget it when--when I amuse myself or let David amuse

me. I seem to belong with them and not in the life he would make for me;

yet you know I care--but if you are going to get out that extra edition

you must get to work. I will sit here and get up my one o'clock notes for

the imp, and if you need me, tell me so."

The major bestowed a slow quizzical smile upon her and took up his pen.

For an hour they both wrote rapidly with now a quick question from the

major and a concise answer from Phoebe, or a short debate over the

wording of one of his sentences or paragraphs. The editorial minds of the

graybeard and the girl were of much the same quality and they had written

together for many years. The major had gone far in the molding of

Phoebe's keen wit.

"Why, here you are, Phoebe," exclaimed Mrs. Buchanan as she hurried into

the room just as Phoebe was finishing some of her last paragraphs,

"Caroline and I have been telephoning everywhere for you. Do come and

motor out to the Country Club with us for lunch. David and Andrew left

some partridges there yesterday as they came from hunting on Old Harpeth,

to be grilled for us to-day. You are going out there to play bridge with

Mrs. Shelby's guest from Charleston at three, so please come with us

now!"

She was all eagerness and she rested one plump, persuasive little hand on

Phoebe's arm. To Mrs. Matilda, any time that Phoebe could be persuaded to

frolic was one of undimmed joy.

"Now, Mrs. Matilda," said the major, as he smiled at her with the

expression of delight that her presence always called forth even in times

of extreme strenuosity, "do leave Phoebe with me--I'm really a very lorn

old man."

"Why, are you really lonely dear? Then Caroline and I won't think of

going. We'll stay right here to lunch with you. I will go tell her and

you put up your books and papers and we will bring our sewing and chat

with you and Phoebe. It will be lovely."

"Matilda," answered the major hastily with real alarm in his eyes, "I

insist that you unroll my strings to your apron as far as the Country

Club this once. I capitulate--no man in the world ever had more attention

than I have. Why, Phoebe knows that--"




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