cate, his
release from the Navy, and his membership card in the American Legion.

CHAPTER IV

"Fair speech is more rare than the emerald found by slave maidens
on the pebbles."--PTAH-HOTEP.

At ten o'clock, next morning, I was summoned from my sleep by the bell
of the telephone beside my bed. It was not a pleasant sleep, although I
had not returned to my apartment until dawn. Nightmare doubts galloped
ruthless hoofs over any repose.

Phillida's voice came over the wire to me like the morning song of a
bird.

"Good-morning, Cousin Roger. We are going to take the train in a few
moments. But I could not leave New York without telling you how happy I
am. Are you--did I wake you up? I was afraid that I might, but Ethan
said you would like me to call, even so."

"My dear, it was the kindest thought you ever had," I told her
fervently.

"Was it?" she hesitated. "Then--were they pretty dreadful to you at
home?"

"Quite!"

"Do you suppose they will _do_ anything dreadful about us?"

"No. Nothing."

It did not seem necessary to tell her that Aunt Caroline did not know
where the runaways had gone, and was thereby debarred from hasty action.
Phillida's father had privately agreed with me in this.

"I am so very happy, Cousin Roger!"

"I am glad, Phil."

"And you will come to the farm soon?"

"Soon," I promised.

So the nightmares of immediate anxiety for her galloped themselves away,
routed for that time. Like my gold-fish when their bowl has been unduly
shaken, I sank down again into the quieted waters of my little world and
absorption in my own affairs. There have been hours when I wondered if I
was of more importance than they, as a matter of cosmic fact.

A month passed before I kept my promise to go to the farm in
Connecticut.

As a first reason, I wanted to leave my young couple alone for a period
of adjustment. Also, I was curious to see how they would handle the
business left to them. I held telephone conversations with Phillida, and
with various contractors now and then. I sent out the furnishings for my
own room. Everything else I purposely left to the experimenters.

There was a second reason, more obscure. I wanted to keep for a while
the little mystery of the lady who had come to the farmhouse room in the
dark of the night. She was pure romance, a rare incident in a prosaic
age. My table had been bare of such delicately spiced morsels, and I
relished the savor of this one up