But there was no time to say more, or for Queenie to answer, for outside the door was heard the sound of scampering steps—steps that could belong to no one but a boy, and Queenie turned quite pale and jumped off the music-stool with a little cry. Next moment the door was burst open, and in rushed Phil like a whirlwind. “Phil!” cried Queenie, with accents of something like despair,—“Phil, how could you? Don’t you know nurse is always here now?” But Phil had caught her round the waist, and was executing one of his impromptu war-dances. “It’s all right, Queenie, all right! I’ve shown up and reported myself, and made it up with everybody; and father says you may have a holiday in honor of my triumphant return; so get your hat and come along. I’m dying to go all over the place. I’ve not seen anything yet.” Queenie was so utterly astonished by the turn matters had taken, and by the overturning of all her cherished and carefully-laid plans, that she remained quite silent, and let her nurse put on her out-door things without uttering a single word. To tell the truth, Queenie was not quite pleased at Phil’s conduct. She felt that he ought to have consulted her before changing his mind so entirely, and she was a good deal disappointed at being robbed of her share of the romantic drama she had planned. Phil, however, was in such capital spirits that he was a long time in observing Queenie’s displeasure, and when he did find out the cause of her annoyance, he detailed to her his morning’s adventure and the arguments Bertie had brought forward against the proposed scheme. But when Queenie heard that Bertie’s counsel had been, as it were, preferred before her own, she felt even more annoyed than she had done before, and tossed her little head with her grandest air. “So Bertie is to be your lord and master, is he?” she asked, scornfully. “Well, I did think you had more spirit than _that_.” Phil laughed good-humoredly. “He’s a nice little chap enough; and I’m glad I took his advice now. It would have been jolly dull and uncomfortable hiding away, and perhaps father would have been more angry than he is now. He’d most likely have thought I was afraid, as Bertie said, and that would quite have spoiled it.” “You would not have been a bit dull or uncomfortable. I should have hidden you in the ruin, and brought you everything you wanted, and stayed with you ever so long. It would have been just like a game in history; and now you’ve gone and spoilt everything, and it’s all Bertie’s fault.” “Well, this is much jollier anyhow,” cried Phil, who was of a more practical turn than his little sister. “Don’t you be cross, Queenie; that will spoil everything. Tell me who Bertie is. I can’t think where he’s come from, and he doesn’t seem to know himself.”