"Your visits are like angels' visits,--extremely rare," it began. "I am afraid I have frightened you away, as I have frightened the parson. I thought you had more wit than he to discern between mannerism and downright ill-humor. This evening the temperature is equable,--not the sign of a brooding cloud: so put on your hat, like a good girl, and come over. Miss Mewlstone and I will be prepared to welcome you." "You had better go," observed Nan, who had read the note over her sister's shoulder: "you have worked so dreadfully hard all day, and it will be a little change." "No one cares for east winds as a change," replied Phillis, dryly; nevertheless, she made up her mind that she would go. She was beginning to dread being summoned to the White House: she felt that Mrs. Cheyne alternately fascinated and repelled her. She was growing fond of Miss Mewlstone; but then, on these occasions, she had so little intercourse with her. The charitable instinct that was always ready to be kindled in Phillis's nature prompted her to pay these visits; and yet she always went reluctantly. She had two encounters on the road, both of which she had foreseen with nice presentiment. The first was with Mr. Drummond. He was walking along slowly, with his eyes on the ground. A sort of flush came to his face when he saw Phillis; and then he stopped, and shook hands, and asked after them all comprehensively, yet with constraint in his voice. Phillis told him rather hurriedly that she was going to the White House: Mrs. Cheyne had sent for her. Archie smiled: "I am glad she does not send for me. I have not been there for a long time. Sarcasm is not an attractive form of welcome. It slams the door in a man's face. I hope you will not get some hard hits, Miss Challoner." And then he went on his way. As she approached Mrs. Williams's cottage, Mr. Dancy was, as usual, leaning against the little gate. He stepped out in the road, and accosted her. "I have not called on your mother," he began, rather abruptly. "After all, I thought it best not to trouble her just now. Can you spare me a few minutes? or are you going in there?" looking towards the White House. "I am rather in a hurry," returned Phillis, surprised at his manner, it seemed so agitated. "I am already late, and Mrs. Cheyne will be expecting me." "Very well: another time," he replied, stepping back without further ceremony; but until Phillis's figure disappeared in the trees he watched her, leaning still upon the little gate. Mrs. Cheyne received her with a frosty smile; but, on the whole, her manner was more gracious than usual, and by and by it thawed completely.