n extreme urgency, when Burbage
was very firm, indeed, Phyllis had a way of referring to dear
Farquharson. Burbage learned to anticipate this by yielding in the nick
of time.

By the way, they had not found a trace of Farquharson.

Several short, sharp battles she had with Sir Peter; the cause, in each
instance, the same. He did not try to disguise his desire that she
should forget her mother. The first encounter between them took place
within a year of her home-coming.

"If I cannot remember my darling, darling mamma in your house, Uncle
Peter, I shall not stay here," she declared. "I will go away and never,
never come back any more. And then you would be sorry."

Sir Peter compromised with irrelevant sweets. But he saw she was
terribly in earnest, for such a little girl.

From time to time a similar incident disturbed the loving relationship
between them; a relationship that was perfect otherwise, in confidence,
sincerity and affection.

When she was eighteen, some one told her she began to look like her
mother.

"God forbid!" said Sir Peter, when she told him.

Phyllis went white.

"Uncle Peter, my mother was an angel. She was my father's----"

"Ruin," interposed Sir Peter, his brows darkening.

"She was his dream of Heaven. I heard him tell her so. She was a dear,
sweet woman."

Sir Peter growled; but Phyllis always had the last word on these
occasions.

"I love her memory and I always shall, as I should have dearly loved her
if--if she could have stayed with me. You must never speak or even think
unkindly of her if you want me to love you, or if you want me to live
with you. She was my mother and----" Then she fled to her room. Burbage
could have been heard murmuring, "There, there, my pretty."

It was true. As she grew older it became apparent she had inherited her
mother's marvelous beauty. She was a tall girl; a mass of golden coils
surmounted the proud head, set so well on her neck and shoulders; her
eyes were the deepest blue; you might have thought her expression sad,
but her sensitive mouth was mirthful as well as tender; in merriment
her eyes danced. When she talked earnestly she caught her breath in the
prettiest way; she had indescribable charm. Her hands were long and
slender, unadorned with rings; she simply didn't care for them. She
usually wore white, and the larger the hat the better she liked it.

By the time Phyllis was twenty, she had read all that was good for her,
and was rea