ernoon, John went to Saint Ruth's to tell the news,
and announce his unavoidable absence from the Settlement for the month
to be devoted to his book.

"And to you," he said, as he kissed Phyllis good-bye.

"Tell Mrs. Thorpe we shall both be back in a month, eager to do more
than ever," was her reply to this. "Tell her, please, not to think we
are selfish; but the little book is so important just now."

Phyllis listened, smilingly, to Mrs. Farquharson's gossip about her
lodgers.

"'Never again,' he says to me solemnly, and pointing at me with his long
finger. 'The keys I shall leave in the cases as I ever have, but never
again touch dust-cloth to my fans and patch-boxes!' And never have I
since that day, which is seven years if it's a minute. He dusts them
himself of a Sunday morning. I've caught him at it!" Mrs. Farquharson
picked a thread from her skirt, and carefully wound it around her
finger.

"Speaking of catching him at it reminds me of that Mrs. Burbage," she
continued. She never referred to her save as "that" Mrs. Burbage; the
designation expressed anathema. "I have wondered, did ever it occur to
you whether Sir Peter asked that Mrs. Burbage to take the advertisements
to the papers; it being my belief that if he ever did she never did. And
consequently, however could I see them, and know my deary dear wanted
her old nurse?"

The whir of a motor, immediately below the windows, caused Mrs.
Farquharson to look out.

"Whoever is that now? A man in leggings and a middle-aged woman in
spectacles. I never set eyes on her before. He's beginning to take the
little leather trunks out. Whatever is--"

Phyllis's intuition was swift as light. A glimpse from another window,
and--

"It is Uncle Peter's car, Farquharson," she exclaimed. "The boxes are
the old Valentines you remember so well--that I sent for yesterday. The
woman is----"

"That Mrs. Burbage, of course. She found me quick enough when she wanted
to!"

Phyllis was in flight down the stairs. Mrs. Farquharson smoothed her
hair, and followed majestically. They met in the hall. While Thompson
carried the boxes up, Phyllis introduced the rivals. They talked for a
few moments constrainedly, surveying each other as though watchful for
an opening. When the last of the cases had gone up Phyllis said:--

"I want to hear news of my uncle, and show Burbage our pretty rooms. You
will excuse us, Farquharson, won't you?"

"Certainly, my dear," she replied; then,