CHAPTER II AUNT KATHERINE GIVES ADVICE The Van Buskirk dinner hour was approaching. After a heavy thunder storm with hail, a cool breeze freshened the hot city. The dainty lace curtains in the drawing room were blowing dangerously for their gossamer threads. But Sylvia Van Buskirk let them blow while she threw open every one of the long French windows which opened on the veranda. Its stone floor was covered with rose petals and leaves from the vines that twined around the great pillars. “What a storm it was!” she was thinking as she looked out. An easy chair was drawn near one of the windows and she was looking about for the evening paper when Mr. Van Buskirk appeared in evening dress. Some little services for her husband Sylvia kept as her own. It was not one of those houses in which the servants are always in evidence. Mr. Van Buskirk came smiling toward his wife and putting his arm around her drew her to the window, while he, too, looked out upon the results of the storm. Philip Van Buskirk Senior was a little above average height, well built but not heavy. He did not possess the dark eyes which were characteristic of so many of the Van Buskirks, but blue ones of the unfading blue type, passed on to Cathalina. His hair was beginning to show grey threads, but he looked active and well, and his air was that of the well-poised, successful business man who is accustomed to carry responsibility. His face was rather serious, refined, and just now very tender; for dear as his children were to him, Sylvia had always stood first. “As soon as you have rested a little, I would like to talk with you about an important matter.” “I am rested now. Bath, shave and clean clothes always rest a man, that is,—well, do not expect me to do any talking. I’ve been closeted, at different times today, with half a dozen men,—each one trying to put through some scheme.” “Poor boy! This is a scheme of Aunt Katherine’s, but for our good, not hers, and especially for Cathalina’s benefit. If my experience with Cathalina today is at all suggestive, Auntie’s idea isn’t bad.” Instead of taking chair and paper, then, Mr. Van Buskirk stretched out upon a couch not far from the windows, and while he closed his eyes and held his wife’s hand as if her nearness rested him, Sylvia outlined Aunt Katherine’s plan for sending Cathalina to a girls’ school. They had not talked long when the children appeared. Philip at seventeen was already taller than his father. Slender, dark-eyed, his dark brown hair cut in the latest fashion, he looked quite the dandy in his evening clothes. Cathalina, dressed as a little girl rather than a young lady, wore a lacy white frock, simple and pretty. “There is your Aunt Knickerbocker, I think,” said Philip Senior, rising quickly as the bell rang. “Go to meet her yourself, Phil; she’ll appreciate the attention.” But Philip had already started to the hall.