“Nonsense, Philip. How good it is to have you again! How did you happen to come so unexpectedly?” “I was all through, lessons and quizzes, and took a notion to come. Packed in an awful hurry and forgot to telegraph. The bunch was along. But let me clean up, Mother, before I answer questions,—I’m so dingy and hot! You see I’m here, husky as ever, and wasn’t fired! Home looks pretty good to me!” “Very well, saucy boy!” Sylvia Van Buskirk shook her head, in smiling reproof of her son, who turned to give direction to the butler standing near, unhearing, unseeing, a suitcase in each hand. “There’ll be a big bag, a couple of trunks and some boxes of books later, Watts. Don’t know where I did get all the junk. Have Louis bring up the suit-cases right away. And how are you yourself?” “Watts’” dignity gave way to a warm smile, for all the servants liked Philip Junior, or “Mr. Philip”, as they called him. Three or four at a time, Philip took the low steps, whistling as he went. “Handsome and full of fun as ever!” “Now we’ll have a little life in the house!” So exclaimed Cathalina and her mother together. “How are you this morning, Cathalina?” “O, I was simply cross when I waked up with a headache again, but it was gone after breakfast.” Mrs. Van Buskirk’s brow contracted anxiously as she looked at Cathalina. Then, arm in arm, they crossed the hall and entered the library, where shades and shutters kept out the glare of the morning sun, an electric fan supplied a breeze and the mail lay upon the table. The Van Buskirk library was what Philip Junior called it, “a thing of beauty” and “a joy forever”. Philip Van Buskirk Senior was a merchant and importer who dealt in all things beautiful of a material sort. Books were his recreation; and as the producing world brought him silks, ivories, jewels and quaint treasures of all kinds, so this world of books brought riches of thought and a quiet companionship away from business cares. The low shelves in the alcoves were filled with reference books galore, with the standard literature and, best of all, the precious copies of the authors dear to the fine man who selected, read and put them upon his shelves, according to his own fancy of arrangement. Here, in the broad, well-cushioned window seat, Cathalina loved to curl up with a box of candy and a book or favorite magazine. No wonder that meals did not taste well and that there was a headache in the morning! This morning’s headache, however, could not be charged to candy, for of late that had been forbidden. Some months before this June morning, Cathalina had been seriously ill. Under careful watching and with a return to the program of more childish days, she had been coming slowly back to health and had even taken up a few studies again. But she had no real interest in anything and in spite of a disposition naturally sweet, bid fair to become fretful and spoiled.