ve spent
together, than I have been in any one else in as many years. And because
of you, and what you have said--so delicately yet so unmistakably--I am
going now to take your advice about Robert."

Before I could stop her, even if I had had the courage and presence of
mind, she walked quickly away from me, and joined Phyllis and van
Buren, who were sauntering a few yards ahead.

My brain whirled, and threatened to give way in the horror of the
situation. I could have shouted aloud with the shrill intensity of a
drowning man, "Alb, save me!" But Alb was far in front, strolling with
the van Buren twins, while the one van Buren in whom he is really
interested walked behind him with my temporary aunt. And in any case, he
could have done nothing. Before my stunned wits had time to rebound,
Phyllis the sweet and gentle had turned and flown to me, as if for
refuge, like a homing dove threatened by a hawk.

"Brother dear," she whispered, "may I walk with you, please? Freule
Menela says there is something she has been wanting all day to talk over
with Mr. van Buren; so I thought I had better leave them alone, and drop
behind with you--if you don't mind having me?"

"Mind!" I echoed in my turmoil of spirit. "It's a happy relief."

"I thought you seemed quite fascinated by Freule Menela," exclaimed the
poor innocent one, "I asked Mr. van Buren if he were not jealous."

"How unkind of you!"

"I didn't mean to be unkind--at least, I _hope_ I didn't," said Phyllis.
"Only, do you know, dear brother--since I am to confide my real feelings
to you--I'm never quite sure of myself where that girl is concerned. I
can't stand her. I'm _so_ sorry for poor Mr. van Buren. What do you
suppose he answered when I asked him that question about being jealous
of you--that rather naughty question? He said, 'Would to Heaven she were
his, not mine!'"

Had I been on St. Lawrence's gridiron, I could not have helped
chortling.

"I'm not at all sure she isn't," I muttered, under my breath; but
Phyllis caught the words.

"What do you mean?" she gasped. "Oh, it _can't_ be you mean anything,
_do_ you?"

"Well, anyhow, I mean that it's very likely she won't long be his," I
explained, fired with anxiety to please the girl at any cost.

"It sounds too glorious to be true. It _can't_ be true! But if it could!
It's no use saying I wouldn't be glad--for poor Mr. van Buren's sake;
he's so much too nice for her--mercenary, conceited, selfish little
c