of Congressman Reynolds--representatives of Montgomery's oldest and
best. Phil shook hands with Wayland Brown Bayless and told him she was
glad he had quoted Shelley's "Skylark," her favorite poem, whereupon he
departed hurriedly to catch a train. It was then that Mrs. King took
advantage of the proximity of so many leading citizens and citizenesses,
who had just heard pessimism routed and optimism glorified, to address
Phil in that resonant tone of authority she brought to all occasions.

"Phil, how's your mother?"

"Mamma's very well, thank you, Mrs. King."

"I wish you would tell Lois to make no engagement for Thursday
night--Thursday, remember--as I want her to dine with me;--that means
you and Amzi, too. The Sir Edward Gibberts, who made the Nile trip when
I did in '72, are on their way home from Japan and are stopping off to
see me. Don't forget it's Thursday, Phil."

It was all Montgomery she addressed, not Phil, as Phil and every one in
hearing distance understood perfectly. Reduced to terms, what had
happened was this: Mrs. John Newman King, the indisputable social censor
of Montgomery, whose husband, etc., etc., was "taking up" Lois Holton!
Not since that April afternoon when General Wilks, judge of the circuit
court, left the bench and personally beat a drum on the court-house
steps to summon volunteers to avenge the firing upon Sumter had anything
quite touched the dramatic heights of this incident. And Mrs. King's pew
in Center Church was Number 2 on the middle aisle!

Phil's blood tingled and her eyes filled. Her Aunt Josephine flung a
murderous glance at her, as though she were in any wise responsible for
the vagaries of Mrs. John Newman King!

The gloomy station hack was waiting at the door when she emerged with
her escort. Charles had exerted himself to interest the visiting
girl--and she had promised to call him up the next time she was in
Indianapolis, which was some compensation for the banalities of the
lecture.

"It's a fine night; let's walk home," said Phil.

Charles discharged the hackman without debate. His had been the only
carriage at the door, except Mrs. King's ancient coach, and he felt that
Phil had not appreciated his munificence. The remembrance of his
encounter with her mother rankled, and as he thought of Fred's rejection
of his proposal about the bonds and of Kirkwood's persistent, steady
stroke in the traction matter, he was far from convinced by the lessons
of the lecture.