the one to
disguise her feelings and spoil a story for relationship's sake."

Theodora sighed. Then she laughed.

"It is only another one of Babe's freaks," she said, with a blitheness
which was meant for her husband's ear. "We must bide our time till
she comes to explain herself. Did you ever know her to do what you
expected of her?"

It was nearly dark when the train rolled in at the familiar station. The
Farrington carriage was waiting, and beside it waited a grey-haired man
in plain green livery. The travelers hailed him as Patrick, and he
greeted them with a delight that was out of all keeping with the severe
decorum of his manner of a moment before. Then, merry as a trio of
children, they drove up the snowy streets, Theodora and Billy in wild
rapture at the thought of being at home once more, Hubert more quiet,
but none the less happy in the prospect of having his sister within
reach again.

They were to dine at The Savins, that night, and they drove directly
there. The low red house rested unchanged on its hilltop where the
twilight was casting greyish shadows across the snow. Lights gleamed in
all the windows; but no welcoming face was silhouetted against them.
Upstairs, Allyn was restlessly pacing his room at the back of the house;
below, a sudden fragrance of burning meats had sent Mrs. McAlister flying
to the kitchen, and for an instant the travelers stood alone in the
broad front hall, with no one to welcome them.

It was only for an instant, however. Dr. McAlister rushed out from his
office, and Mrs. McAlister came running to meet them, to exclaim over
them and lead them forward to the blazing fire. Then there was a thud and
a bump, and Theodora was gripped tight in two strong boyish arms and felt
a clumsy boyish kiss on her cheek, while she heard, not noisily, but
quite low,--

"Oh, Teddy, you've come at last!"

CHAPTER THREE

Phebe McAlister sat on the floor beside an open trunk. Around her was
scattered a pile of feminine mysteries, twice as bulky as the trunk from
which they had come, and the bed was littered with gowns as varied in hue
as in material. Pink chiffon met green broadcloth, and white silk and
blue gingham nestled side by side with a friendly disregard of the fact
that their paths in life would not often bring them together. The whole
room was in a wild state of disarray. The only orderly object in it was
Phebe herself.

A girl of the early twenties, perfect in health an