hat they never have time to watch anyone else's.

"You're a perfect angel!" Phil declared again, fervently.

"I know I am; and I'm so happy"--Nancy's swift transition from grave
to gay was always one of her greatest charms--"that I'm afraid if I
don't get out of here pretty soon, they'll have to call in the police,
for there's no telling what I may do! I feel like dancing a jig on top
of this table!"

"I dare you," laughed Phil, happily.

"Well, it's only on your account that I don't," she said, airily.
"Even though you are a liar, you look so respectable! And, oh, Phil,"
she went on, irrelevantly, "I have so much to tell you. I'll tell you
all about everything--a certain fat blue pitcher I found the other day
and that really brought me here to New York, about Mr. James Thornton
and his artificial moonlight, and everything else--on our way to the
minister's. But I say, Phil"--here the Charles Warren, matter-of-fact
strain asserted itself--"if we are going to be married to-night, we
must hurry, for it's after nine now, and I've got to be at Lilla's by
ten o'clock. I wouldn't be late for anything. How surprised she'll be
when Mr. and Mrs. Philip Peirce sail in!" She looked up suddenly at
the picture over the table. "Boy," she said, very tenderly, "don't you
think 'The Girl with the Laughing Eyes' looks as though she approved?"

But Phil had no eyes save for the shining eyes across the table, so
his answer cannot be described.

* * * * *

"Phil," said Nancy, about a week later--they had just finished
installing Phil's few Lares and Penates in their new quarters--"isn't
this just the coziest little nook you've ever seen?"

"Absolutely," said Phil, with conviction.

"I wish mother could see how----" The smile was a bit wistful. "Phil,
I really think we ought to go up to see mother. Of course she's
furious--her not answering our telegram is proof positive of that. I'm
scared to death at the thought of seeing her. She can look you through
and through so, when she disapproves! I _do_ think she might have
written. We haven't done anything so perfectly dreadful. You don't
suppose she is sick, do you?" she asked, anxiously.

"Why, no, Little Girl," said Phil, soothingly; "we'd have heard in
some way if there had been anything of that sort."

"I think I'm getting nervous about her. Will you go up with me to-day,
dear?"

"Why, certainly, Nance; whenever you want to go, just say the word.