" she said when they were established at the fireside
for the evening. "Of course, you know that one's aunts were responsible
for asking them to Amy's party; it wasn't Amy's doings; but if you want
me to keep clear of them I'll do it. Please tell me the truth--just how
you feel about it."

"Phil," said Kirkwood, meeting her eyes steadily, "those aunts of yours
are silly women--with vain, foolish, absurd ideals. They didn't consult
me about asking the Holtons because I'm a stupid old frump, and it
didn't make any difference whether I'd like it or not. But I'm eternally
grateful that they did it; and I'm glad that other man came back just as
he did. For all those things showed me that the years have blotted out
any feeling I had against them. I haven't a bit, Phil. Maybe I ought to
have; but however that may be there's no bitterness in my soul. And I'm
glad I've discovered that; it's a greater relief to me than I can
describe."

His smile, the light touch he gave her hands, carried conviction. The
discussion seemed to afford him relief.

"So far as the Holtons concern me, there's peace between our houses.
It's perfectly easy for a man to shoot another who has done him a wrong;
but it doesn't help any, for,"--and he smiled the smile that Phil loved
in him--"for the man being dead can't know how much his enemy enjoys his
taking off! Murder, as a fine art, Phil, falls short right there."

He had not mentioned her mother; and Phil wondered whether she too
shared this amnesty. It was inconceivable that he should have forgiven
the man if he still harbored hatred of the woman.

With a sudden impulse she rose and caught his face in her hands.

"Why don't you marry Nan, daddy?"

She saw the color deepen in his cheeks and a startled look came into his
eyes.

"What madness is this, Phil?" he asked, with an effort at lightness.

"It means that I think it would be nice--nice for you and Nan and nice
for me. I can see her here, sitting right there in that chair that she
always sits in when she comes. I think it would be fun--lots of fun for
her to be here all the time, so we wouldn't always be trailing over
there."

He laughed; she felt that he was not sorry that she had spoken of Nan.

"Are we always trailing over there? I suppose they really are our best
friends. But there is Rose, you know. Wouldn't she look just as much at
home in her particular chair as Nan?"

"Well, Rose is fine, too, but Rose is different."

"Oh,