"It's perfect," she announced from the garden gate. "Oh, Janet, do love me so that I can stay here always. There's a real sundial! Auntie Mogs, do look. Tommy, you never told me about it. And what ducky little white flowers!" In the hall she was equally enthusiastic over the grandfather's clock and the big brass warming pan. Martha met them at the door, arrayed in a stiff white apron, her face shiny with soap applied vigorously. Before she had a chance to speak, Phyllis was shaking her hand. "You're Martha," she said. "I'm awfully glad to know you." Martha turned to Miss Carter. "She said that like Master Tom," she said. Aunt Mog smiled. "Yes, she is very like her father," she said. "I see it so often. It's queer, isn't it! Janet is more like her mother." "She is, indeed, ma'm, even in her ways." Martha spoke proudly, and she looked at Janet affectionately. "Won't you be coming up to your room? You must be tired." They all followed her upstairs, Phyllis leading the way and once more carrying her cat. Tom brought up the rear, carrying the bags, which had arrived a few minutes before from the station. "I must change my dress before I see grandmother," Phyllis said as she opened a big suitcase, "but I won't be a minute, so stay and talk to me while I wash in this adorable basin," she said to Janet. Aunt Mog took off her hat and with a smile, which neither of the girls noticed, she slipped from the room and joined Tom at the foot of the stairs. "It's quite perfect, as Phyllis says," she laughed, "and now suppose I go in and say 'how do you do' to Mrs. Page." When the girls came down a few minutes later they heard voices and Tom's hearty laugh. Janet sighed with relief and opened the door softly. "Grandmother," she said in the hushed voice she always used in that room, "here is Phyllis." Before Mrs. Page had had time really to look at her other granddaughter, Phyllis had kissed her warmly on both cheeks and was rattling on in her joyful way. "Grandmother, isn't this fun!" she demanded. "I'm so glad to see you. Why, only just imagine, I never knew you existed until Tom came out of the skies and told me about you and Janet. You can imagine, can't you, how surprised I was, and of course I've been simply crazy to see you ever since." "Phyllis dearest, be careful; I'm afraid you'll tire your grandmother with so much chattering," Aunt Mog admonished gently. "Let the child alone, Marjorie," Mrs. Page snapped. "Oh, but I'm sorry," Phyllis was contrite at once, "I always forget, and you know you don't look a bit sick, grandmother, even though you are in bed. Here, let me shake up your pillows for you. They don't look half puffy enough to be really comfortable." She suited the action to the word, and in the twinkling of an eye the pillows were re-arranged to her satisfaction. "Keep still a minute, child," Mrs. Page said not unkindly; "I want to look at you."