y of his collar. "Is that you,
Phil?"

"Generally speaking, it _ain't_, Amy. What do you think of the gladness
of these joyful rags anyhow?"

"You look right, Phil. You've grown about six inches since I saw you
last. High heels?"

She thrust out a slipper for his inspection.

"Those clothes are not as bad as some I've seen. I don't mind the
low-in-the-neck effect when there's a neck to show like yours. Most of
'em look like the neck of a picked gander. I guess Fanny did about the
right thing. Fanny's taste is usually pretty fair."

"Oh, the whole syndicate took a hand in it," said Phil with a sigh.
"They nearly wore me out; but they were so busy consulting each other
that they didn't notice that I chose the crepe myself. But I wanted you
to like my things, Amy."

"Of course I like 'em. You certainly look grand."

He rummaged in one of the chiffonier drawers.

"Just wait a minute," he said; "you've got to fix this fool thing for
me." He placed a fresh tie round his white-wing collar and loosely
crossed the ends. "I ain't going to take any chances of spoiling this.
Now, Phil, do your noblest."

"With gloves on? Well, I'm used to doing daddy's over again, so here
goes."

He stood with his chin in air while she tied the bow. Her youth, her
loveliness, her red lips, compressed at the crucial moment when the bow
took form, moved and thrilled him. No one in the world had ever been so
dear to him as Phil! When she rested her hands on his shoulders and
tilted her head to one side to study her handiwork he raised himself on
his toes and lifted his hands, in one of which he had concealed
something.

"Bend your head a little, Phil; I ought to have a ladder for this."

And in a moment he drew down upon her neck a chain with a pendant of
pearls, which he had chosen with the greatest care at the best jeweler's
in Indianapolis.

"Now look at yourself!"

She sprang to the mirror, and while she was exclaiming over it, he
remarked, "I guess it don't make you look much worse, Phil. But it
doesn't make you look much nicer. Thunder! Nothing could!"

"Amy! I'm going to muss you up!" she cried, wheeling round.

"Phil--don't you touch me; don't you dare!"

He backed away and began drawing on his coat, and she abandoned the idea
of mussing him to make sure his tie didn't crawl up over his collar. She
clasped him tight and kissed him on the mouth.

"What a dear old pal you are, Amy," she said, laying her cheek against
his