d or innocent as not to appreciate your own
good points. Any person with good sight and ordinary sense can tell
whether their appearance is pleasing or otherwise. I like this
dress----"

"Phoebe," Aunt Maria's voice came up the stairs.

"Yes?"

"Why, David's down. Are you done dressing?"

"I'll be down in a minute."

David Eby, too, was a man grown, but a man so different! Like his
cousin, Phares, he was tall. He had the same dark hair and eyes but his
eyes were glowing, and his hair was cut close and his chin kept
smooth-shaven.

Between him and Phoebe there existed the old comradeship, free of
restraint or embarrassment. He ran to meet her as her steps sounded on
the stairs.

But she came down sedately, her hand sliding along the colonial
hand-rail, a calm dignity about her, her lovely head erect.

"Good-evening," she said in quiet tones.

"Whew!" he whistled. "Sweet girl graduate is too mild a phrase! Come,
unbend, Phoebe. You don't expect me to call you Miss Metz or to kiss
your hand--ah, shall I?"

"Davie"--in a twinkling the assumed dignity deserted her, she was all
girl again, animated and adorable--"Davie, you're hopeless! Here I pose
before the mirror to find the most impressive way to hold my head and be
sufficiently dignified for the occasion, and you come bursting into the
hall like a tomboy, whistling and saying funny things."

"I'm awfully sorry. But you took my breath away. I haven't gotten it
back yet"--he breathed deeply.

"David, will you ever grow up?"

"I'll have to now. I see you've gone and done it."

"Ach no," she lapsed into the childhood expression. "I'm not grown up.
But how do I look? You won't tell me so I have to ask you."

"You look like a Madonna," he said seriously.

"Oh," she said impatiently, "that sounded like Phares."

"Gracious, then I'll change it! You look like an angel and good enough
to eat. But honestly, Phoebe, that dress is dandy! You look mighty
nice."

"Glad you think so. Shall I tell you a secret, David? I'm scared pink
about to-night."

"You scared?" He whistled again.

"Don't be so smart," she said with a frown. "Were you scared on your
Commencement night?"

"Um-uh. At first I was. But you'll get over it in a few minutes. The
lights and the glory of the occasion dim the scary feeling when you sit
up there in the seats of honor. You should be glad your oration is
first."

"I am. Mary Warner is welcome to her Valedictory and the long wait to