you think there's a difference, do you?"

He picked up a book, turned over the leaves idly, and when he spoke
again it was not of Nan.

"If you want to go to Mrs. Holton's party it's all right, Phil. I
suppose most of the young people will be there."

"Yes; it's a large party."

"Then go and have a good time. And Phil--"

"Yes, daddy."

"Be careful what foolish notions you get into your head."

* * * * *

Mrs. William Holton undeniably did things with an air. It may have been
an expression of her relief at having disposed of Jack Holton so quickly
and effectively--he had vanished immediately after his interview with
William in the bank--that her sleigh-ride and skating-party as
originally planned grew into a function that well-nigh obscured Phil's
"coming-out." It began with a buffet luncheon at home, followed by the
ride countryward in half a dozen bob-sleds and sleighs of all
descriptions. It was limited to the young people, and Phil found that
all her friends were included. Ethel and Charles Holton had come over
from Indianapolis to assist their aunt in her entertainment.

"Mighty nice to find you here!" said Charles to Phil as he stood beside
her on the sidewalk waiting for their appointed "bob." "And you may be
sure I'm glad to get a day off. I tell you this business life is a
grind. It's what General Sherman said war is. I suppose your father told
you what a time we've been having straightening out the traction tangle.
Scandal--most outrageous lying--but that father of yours is a master
negotiator. He ought to be in the diplomatic service."

He looked at her guardedly with a quick narrowing of the eyes.

"Oh, I suppose it wasn't really so serious," said Phil indifferently.
"Father never brings business home with him and I only know that I don't
like having him away so much."

"Yes," said Holton, "I don't doubt that you miss him. But Montgomery is
getting gay. Over in Indianapolis there's more doing, of course, and
bigger parties; but they don't have the good old home flavor. It's these
informal gatherings of boys and girls who have known each other all
their lives that count."

It was the brightest of winter days, with six inches of snow, and cold
enough to set young blood tingling. They set off with a merry jingling
of bells and drove through town to advertise their gayety before turning
countryward. The destination was Turkey Run, that fantastic anomaly of
the Hoos