morning. I don't believe one of those
blessed babies will remember me. I have a little shopping to do, too."

"Why not do your shopping about eleven; meet me at Mildmay's, for
luncheon, at one; and we will 'bus over to Saint Ruth's together, and
make an afternoon of it."

Phyllis kissed him.

"What a perfectly delightful plan!" she exclaimed. "How shall I find
Mildmay's? Oh! John, dear; how much has happened since then."

"No regrets yet?" he asked, searching her eyes.

She put her hands on the lapels of his coat.

"Not even one tiny, little regret," said Phyllis.

As he ran down the stairs, however, she called after him.

"Oh, John! I forgot. I have one regret."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Harpalus"--whispered Phyllis, leaning over the banister; and kissed her
hand to him.

Phyllis's truthful eyes had not hidden from John, this morning, or ever,
that her heart was often saddened by thoughts of her uncle. She knew
his way of life so well; could tell, at any hour, what he was probably
doing. She could picture his lonely evenings. Alas, she knew his pride;
and her own; John's, too. She often thought of her letter to him, with
its hint of reconciliation; she wondered if she should have said more.
Then his cruel words about her mother--As often she concluded she had
said all there was to say. And she would turn her thoughts elsewhere, so
that the bitter remembrance might not spoil the sweetness of these days.

John waited for her at the entrance to Mildmay's. The moment she saw him
she knew all was well.

As they went in she nudged him.

"To the left, John. I want to sit at our little table."

The same waitress, too;--what smiles! Phyllis had chocolate because she
liked chocolate; but John must have tea--because he had it before.

He told her of the interview with the publishers; the little book would
appear in April; May at the latest.

The top of the motor-bus, of course.

From the crossing where they alighted one should take the street to the
right to Saint Ruth's. John turned to the left, at once.

"I should never have forgiven you if you hadn't," said Phyllis, as they
started eagerly down the mean street, in which noisy trams threatened
the lives of ragged, venturesome children. Here was the very place! How
slowly they had walked there, while he told her of his love. How long
ago it seemed. Phyllis's hand found its way into John's pocket--and was
welcomed there.

They got to Saint Ruth's, final