d in trim neatness,
never lacks a certain attractiveness; but Phebe went beyond that. At a
first glance, her features might be condemned as irregular, her eyes as
too piercing, her lips and chin as too firm. The next moment, all that
was forgotten. Phebe was rarely silent for more than one moment at a
time. As soon as she spoke, her face lighted and became whimsical,
piquant, merry, or fiery as suited her mood; and Phebe's friends were
never agreed as to which of her moods was most becoming. Pretty she was
not, beautiful she was not; but she was undeniably interesting, and at
times brilliantly handsome.

She looked up, as Theodora came into the room.

"How do? Sit down," she said briefly.

"I came over to see if I couldn't help you with your unpacking," Theodora
said, as she paused beside the trunk.

"Thank you, no. I can do it."

"But it is such a trial. I love to pack; but unpacking is always rather
an anti-climax."

"I don't mind it," Phebe said calmly, while she sorted stockings
industriously.

"Let me do that," Theodora urged.

"No; it might be a trial to you, and I really don't mind. Sit down and
look at my photographs. They are in the third box from the top of the
pile in the corner."

"Methodical as ever, Phebe?"

"I have to be. It takes too much time to sort out things. Your bureau
drawers would give me a fit." Phebe rolled up her stockings with an
emphatic jerk.

"It is no credit to you to be orderly, Babe; you were born so. I wasn't,"
Theodora said tranquilly, as she took up the photographs. "Billy's bump
of order is large enough for both of us, though."

"I should think you would be terribly trying to him," Phebe
remarked frankly.

"Poor old William! Perhaps I am; but he is considerate enough not to
mention it."

Phebe rose to bestow an armful of clothing in a bureau drawer.

"He looks so well." she said. "I do wish his mother could see him. She
worries about him even now, and gets anxious if the letters are delayed.
If she could see him, she would leave that off. He is ever so much
stronger than when we went away."

"Married life agrees with him. What is this, Babe? It isn't marked."

"It's the hotel at the foot of the Rigi, not a good picture, but I hadn't
time to get any other."

"Was that where you left Mrs. Farrington?"

"Yes."

"What made you do it, Babe?"

"The Ellertons were there on their way home, and I could travel with
them. I didn't care to cross half the continent