I'm having a holiday now!" Phil laughed like a happy schoolboy.

"All right, then, we'll go to-day. And please be on your very bestest
behavior, Philly-Boy."

"Don't worry. I'll be the dutiful son to the queen's taste."

"And be sure," adjured Nancy, solemnly, "to tell mother you're really
making quite a lot of money now, that we're not starving, and that I'm
going to have some new clothes the first of next month."

* * * * *

Late that afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Philip Peirce reached the Warren
house. Three pulls at the bell brought no response, and all rattlings
and shakings of the doorknob were without result. The door was as
tightly closed as though it never expected to be opened again till the
crack o' doom.

At the back of the house the same conditions existed. Not a door, not
a window, would yield.

Nancy was plainly vexed. "The Prodigal Son had a much better time than
this when _he_ came home," she complained, ruefully.

She and Phil walked around to the front of the house again, and down
the nasturtium-bordered path that led from the porch to the street.
There was absolutely no sign of life anywhere.

Suddenly, Nancy heard the "touf-touf" of an automobile, and down the
road at a rapid pace came Mr. James Thornton's gorgeous machine, the
chauffeur its sole occupant.

"Henry," she said, walking to the edge of the sidewalk, "can you tell
me where Mrs. Warren is?"

"No, miss, I cannot." He drew himself up stiffly. Mrs. Warren's
daughter was evidently in his bad books.

"Is Mr. Thornton at home?" she asked, timidly.

"No, miss, he is not." His lips clicked. Then, with sudden
condescension, and head held very high, eyes looking straight ahead,
he added: "Mr. Thornton is away on his wedding trip."

"His _what_?" gasped Nancy, weakly.

"Him and Mrs. Warren was married yesterday," he said, proudly. "She's
a fine, fine lady!" And, touching the visor of his cap, he started the
machine down the street.

Nancy leaned against a tree, too stunned for words. Then, as the humor
of the whole situation flashed over her, she began to laugh, and
laughed until, for lack of breath, she couldn't laugh any longer.

"Why, it's--the funniest thing--I've ever heard of, Phil!" she gasped.

"Well, it keeps the 'shoals of money' in the family!" said Phil,
philosophically, and then he howled.

"Yes," Nancy mused, still panting for breath, "mother once said that
if I let him slip through my