reature."

"Right, on every count," said I.

"I don't quite understand you," said Phyllis. "But I can't help feeling
that, if anything splendid does happen, it will be all through
you--somehow. You promised me, didn't you?--well, I don't know exactly
what you promised; but it made me feel happy and sure everything would
come out well, that night when you said you'd like to have me for a
sister."

"_Did_ I say that?" I asked in surprise.

"_Didn't_ you? I thought----"

"Go on thinking so, then," I sighed; "and anything else that will make
you happy--little sister."

"Thank you. Now I know, by the mysterious way you're looking at me, that
you _have_ done something. I believe you made him--I mean Mr. van
Buren--come to see us again sooner than he intended to."

"Perhaps. And perhaps I made him bring Freule Menela with him."

"Did you? I wish--but no. I mustn't think of that."

"Wait a few hours and then think what you like," said I. Yet I spoke
gloomily. I could see where the Viking was to come in. But I could not
so clearly see how I was to get out.

We walked a very long way before any one seemed to wonder where we were
going, and why we should be going there; but at last we came to a
tea-garden, or a beer-garden, or both; and the L.C.P. said that we must
stop and give Tibe a bowl of milk.

Not a member of the party who did not appear singularly absent-minded,
on stopping and grouping with the others again, not excepting Tibe
himself; but his absent-mindedness was caused only by the antics of a
water-rat, which he would have liked to see added to his milk. When it
occurred to him to drink the milk, unenriched by such an addition, we
were all eating pink and white ices, and Dutch cakes that must have been
delicious to those who had no Freule Menela sticking in their throats.

Phyllis walked beside me all the way back to the hotel, and was dearer
than ever now that, through my own quixotic act, I saw her rapidly
becoming unattainable. But, as the ladies said good-night to us at the
foot of the stairs, Freule van der Windt contrived to whisper, as she
slipped her hand into mine--"For better for worse, I've taken _your_
advice, Mr. Starr. I am absolutely _free_."

"How did you manage it?" I heard myself asking.

"Robert _insisted_ on living in Rotterdam. He wouldn't even consent to
winter at The Hague, though it's so near; so his blood is on his own
head."

"And joy in his heart," I might have added. But I