“I don’t think I can remember it unless you tell me first what your name is.” “Sh’lotte Mee-ni-a Buckets V’n Hoosen Doosen V’n Ness.” A ripple of laughter greeted this, Will adding a boyish “haw-haw!” “Philip Van Buskirk, did you teach her that?” came from Mrs. Van Ness. Philip grinned broadly. “I really didn’t think she’d remember. Smart child!” “Why, Charlotte, your name isn’t Maria; here’s Ann Maria.” “Yes, ’tis Meenia. Philip said,” insisted Charlotte, nodding her curls. “Ah, Phil, now she’s let the cat out of the bag.” “Kitty, kitty,” called Philip softly. Charlotte jumped down and looked all round. “Why where’s a kitty? Don’t see any kitty!” “What does she mean by ‘Buckets,’ Philip?” “Van Buskirk,” replied Philip, arching his black brows and drawing his face into a comical look of pretended distress. “Come on, Phil, play for us,” said Ann Maria. “Louise has some new music.” “Good; let Louise do it.” “You first, my dear Philip!” “O, start the victrola, girls!” “Philip Van Buskirk! Do you mean to say that you will take piano and organ all year of the perfectly fine professor down there and not play a note for your suffering family?” So Philip was escorted to the piano by Ann Maria and Louise, and played for this family group as he had played for Aunt Katherine. Ann Maria looked questioningly at Cathalina as Philip played his own exquisite little theme, and receiving a confirming nod, looked mischievous, but remained silent like the rest until Philip had finished. “What was that second thing you played, Phil?—I can’t think what it is, someway, but it sounds like—” Ann Maria paused as if trying to think of the name of a composition. “What does it sound like?” demanded Philip, whirling around. Then he caught the look in Ann Maria’s eyes. “O, you Maria,” said he slangily, shaking his head at her and dashing into popular songs in which the cousins joined. “What is it?” asked Louise, who did not understand. “O, just Ann Maria, as usual, teasing Philly about the piece he made up,” replied Cathalina. * * * * * Meanwhile Aunt Katherine was leading the discussion at the Van Buskirk’s. “I have not wanted to intrude, Philip, but it has seemed to me for some time that our very anxiety for Cathalina is spoiling her.” “Why, Aunt Katherine!” exclaimed Sylvia in gentle protest, “Cathalina is usually as sweet as can be.” “I do not mean spoiled in the sense of becoming undutiful or exacting. No child of yours, Sylvia, could be anything but sweet.” Aunt Katherine, though never insincere, knew when to put in a judicious compliment. Philip Junior, however, would not have thanked her for his share in this one. “Why, thank you, Auntie; I’m afraid I do not deserve that.” “Yes, you do; but, my dear, do you realize that the child does almost nothing for herself? No wonder that she is anaemic and lacks energy! There is no real wholesome exercise that she wants to take. Isn’t that true?”