blind to hers."

"But why did Mac come away? He says lectures brought him, and he goes,
but I am sure something else is in his mind, he looks so happy at times.
I don't see him very often, but when I do I'm conscious that he isn't
the Mac I left a year ago," said Phebe, leading Archie away, for
inexorable propriety forbade a longer stay, even if prudence and duty
had not given her a reminding nudge, as it was very cold, and afternoon
church came in an hour.

"Well, you see Mac was always peculiar, and he cannot even grow up like
other fellows. I don't understand him yet, and am sure he's got some
plan in his head that no one suspects, unless it is Uncle Alec. Love
makes us all cut queer capers, and I've an idea that the Don will
distinguish himself in some uncommon way. So be prepared to applaud
whatever it is. We owe him that, you know."

"Indeed we do! If Rose ever speaks of him to you, tell her I shall see
that he comes to no harm, and she must do the same for my Archie."

That unusual demonstration of tenderness from reserved Phebe very
naturally turned the conversation into a more personal channel, and
Archie devoted himself to building castles in the air so successfully
that they passed the material mansion without either being aware of it.

"Will you come in?" asked Phebe when the mistake was rectified and she
stood on her own steps looking down at her escort, who had discreetly
released her before a pull at the bell caused five heads to pop up at
five different windows.

"No, thanks. I shall be at church this afternoon, and the oratorio this
evening. I must be off early in the morning, so let me make the most of
precious time and come home with you tonight as I did before," answered
Archie, making his best bow, and quite sure of consent.

"You may." And Phebe vanished, closing the door softly, as if she found
it hard to shut out so much love and happiness as that in the heart of
the sedate young gentleman who went briskly down the street humming a
verse of old "Clyde" like a tuneful bass viol:

"Oh, let our mingling voices rise
In grateful rapture to the skies,
Where love has had its birth.

Let songs of joy this day declare
That spirits come their bliss to share
With all the sons of earth."

That afternoon Miss Moore sang remarkably well, and that evening quite
electrified even her best friends by the skill and power with which she
rendered "Inflammatus" in the oratorio.