therwise Phyllis--?" Many a smile had been occasioned by that
question. Tom Kirkwood knew all this and was happy and grateful. He had
not attended a large gathering of his fellow-townfolk since his wife
left him, so that his daughter's coming-out was an event of double
significance for him.

The aunts were somewhat critical of the arrangements for refreshing the
guests. Amzi, refusing to heed their suggestions that the catering be
entrusted to an Indianapolis firm, had arranged everything himself. The
cakes were according to the best recipes known at 98 Buckeye Lane, and
Rose and Nan were there, assisting, by Amzi's special command. During
the evening he consulted first one and then the other; and when his
sisters asked icily for instructions, he told them to look handsome and
keep cheerful. This was unbrotherly, of course, but Amzi was supremely
happy.

The older people had been served in the dining-room and many of them had
already gone or were now taking leave, and the waiters were distributing
little tables for the young people.

"Let me see, you were to have refreshments with me, Miss Kirkwood; I
have a table in the drawing-room alcove all ready," said Charles Holton
to Phil as she still stood talking to Fred in the hall. Fred had been
wondering just what his own responsibilities were in the matter. Charles
had greeted him affably; but Fred's diffidence deepened in his brother's
presence: Charles was a master of the social arts, whereas Fred had only
instinctive good-breeding to guide him. Fred was about to move away, but
Phil detained him.

"Isn't it curious that you two brothers should have the same idea," said
Phil artlessly. "It's really remarkable! But I think"--and she turned
gravely to Fred--"I think, as long as you came too late for a dance with
me, I shall eat my piece of pie with you--and I think right up there on
the stairs would be an excellent place to sit!"

Fred, radiant at the great kindness of this, went off to bring the salad
for which she declared she was perishing. Charles looked at her with an
amused smile on his face.

"You're a brick! It's mighty fine of you to be so nice to Fred. Dear old
Fred!"

Phil frowned.

"Why do you speak of your brother in that way?"

"How did I speak of him?"

"Oh, as if he were somebody to be sorry for!"

"Oh, you misunderstood me! I was merely pleased that you were being nice
to him. Fred would never have thought of asking you to sit on the stairs
w