was never heard of again; at least, I never found
out who she was. It was very funny and very unromantic; but it laid me up
for a few weeks, and my arm doesn't grow strong as fast as it should, so
I have to be careful of it. No swimming or golf for me, this year.
Meanwhile, I am waiting to hear of a buxom damsel who lacks one skull
and one white straw Knox hat, size six and one-eighth. Then, when I meet
her, I shall take my vengeance."

"I hope you will find her," the doctor said vindictively. "If one of my
daughters had done such a thing, I would disown her. Babe, it is growing
chilly. I wish you'd bring out some rugs."

But Phebe had vanished from her seat in the doorway.

The full moon was laying a silvery path across the restless waves, when
Gifford Barrett finally rose to go. There was a cordial exchange of
farewells, of good wishes for the coming winter, of hopes of another
meeting, yet Mr. Barrett was not quite content, as he slowly walked away
to his hotel Mrs. Farrington's cordiality and Cicely's evident woe at his
departure could not quite atone for the lack of a word and a glance of
friendly good-bye from Phebe. One's liking is not altogether a matter of
free will. In spite of himself, Gifford Barrett liked the blunt,
outspoken, pugnacious Phebe far better than the girls whose honeyed words
and ways he had found so cloying.

Farewell parties are all the fashion at Qantuck station and few people
are allowed to depart, unattended. However, Mr. Barrett's fame, and his
manifest wish to hold himself aloof from the people about him had had
their effect, and he went trudging down to the station the next afternoon
quite by himself. On the platform, to his surprise, he found Mrs. Holden
and Mac waiting for him.

"Mac insisted upon saying good-bye," Hope said half apologetically; "and
I really hadn't the heart to refuse him. Besides, I wanted to thank you
again for your many kindnesses to my small boy. Mothers appreciate such
things, I assure you, Mr. Barrett."

The young man's face lighted. He liked Hope, and, from the first, he had
dropped his professional manner and met her with the simplicity of an
overgrown boy.

"We've had great times together; haven't we, Mac?" he inquired.

"Yes, lots; but now I'm going to see my truly papa," Mac observed.

"Are you going soon?" Mr. Barrett asked Hope.

"Next week, I think. Mr. Holden has written so appealingly that I dare
not keep him waiting any longer. The others