e drawing it back. Olly was playing
cat's-cradle with the good-natured Mr. Upjohn, and merely kicked out at
his caresser, as a warning that he was not to be interrupted.

"Fine spirited boy," muttered Mr. Upjohn under his breath. "Very fine.
Will make a man some day."

"Not so big as you, though, I won't be when I'm a man," declared Olly.
"You're too fat."

"Now just hear him!" exclaimed Mr. Upjohn, shaking all over with
corpulent mirth. "Maybe you would rather be like Mr. Webb then?"

"No, I wouldn't neither," retorted Olly, nothing deterred by that
gentleman's presence from a frank exposure of his sentiments. "He's too
lean. He's leaner than any thing. He's just like the blade of my
pocket-knife with clothes on. Oh, crickey!"

It was conveniently discovered at this crisis that it was Olly's bedtime,
and he was with some difficulty conveyed from the parlor, followed by an
angry glare from Gerald and a severely truthful comment from Mrs. Upjohn.
De Forest outstayed the rest of the leave-takers. Phebe thought it hard,
when she so wanted to have Gerald all to herself on this last evening;
and she wondered too that Halloway had not come to say good-by. He came
in, however, at last, flushed and tired, apologizing for the lateness of
his call, saying he had been sent for by two of his parishioners who were
also down with the fever.

"It looks something like an epidemic," remarked Gerald. "I am really
rather glad we are going."

"You have no ambition to remain and turn Florence Nightingale then?"
asked De Forest.

"Not in the slightest. It is a role I am eminently unfitted for. I detest
sick people."

"Not always, I think, Gerald," said Phebe, with a grateful glance, which
Gerald returned with one of real though undemonstrative tenderness.

"Your case was very different, Phebe."

"I should think it would be extremely difficult to detest Miss Phebe
under even the must aggravating circumstances," said Halloway, smiling
frankly at her. "Hallo, who is this?"

It was Olly, bootless and coatless, whom the sound of Halloway's voice
had brought down from the midst of his slow preparations for bed, to bid
his friend good-by, and who sprang upon him with a rush of suffocating
affection.

"What would Mrs. Upjohn say!" drawled De Forest.

Gerald rose at once to send off the child with a reprimand, and
remained standing after he had gone. De Forest rose too and slowly came
toward her.

"I suppose I had better leave you