ur cousin Robert here?" inquired the Chaperon. "Could he
have known you were coming?"

"I didn't write to him," said Nell.

"I didn't," said I.

Nobody else spoke; but Miss Rivers blushed.

PHYLLIS RIVERS' POINT OF VIEW

XXI

I wrote to Mr. van Buren because he asked me to. He never approved of
the trip, and he said that he would be much obliged if I'd drop him a
line every few days to keep him from worrying about Nell.

I didn't mention the conversation to her, as she would be sure to think
it nonsense, since he lived without hearing about her welfare for twenty
years, and never gave himself a moment's anxiety. But, of course, that
was different. She is in his country now, and he feels in a way
responsible for her, as if he were a guardian; only he can't make her do
things, because he has no legal rights. Besides, he is young--not more
than five or six years older than she is--but I wish I had such a
guardian. Instead of going against his advice, I would obey, and even
ask for it.

Mr. van Buren is the wisest young man I ever met, as well as the best
looking, and I am vexed with Nell because she treats him as if he were a
big school-boy. To make up for her ingratitude--I'm afraid it amounts to
that--I have tried to show that _I_ appreciate his kindness. As he's
engaged, I can be nice without danger of his fancying that I'm flirting;
and the poor fellow has seemed pleased with the few little things I've
been able to do by way of expressing our thanks. I wish I could believe
that the girl he's going to marry is good enough for him, but she is
_so_ plain, and seems to have rather an uncertain temper. Nell says she
is a "little cat," but I should be sorry to call any girl such a name,
though I've known many cats better looking and more agreeable than she.

I have always been brought up to think it rather rude to send postcards,
unless they are picture ones for people to put in their albums; and of
course it would be silly flooding Mr. van Buren with pictures of places
he has seen dozens of times, so when I have written to him, I felt
obliged to write regular letters.

I meant to scribble a line or two; but Holland is so fascinating that I
have found myself running on about it, and Mr. van Buren has seemed
grateful because it's his native land, and the places he likes best have
turned out to be my favorites. In that way we have happened to write
each other quite long letters, almost every day, for he