Phil's blood tingled and her eyes filled. Her Aunt Josephine flung a murderous glance at her, as though she were in any wise responsible for the vagaries of Mrs. John Newman King! The gloomy station hack was waiting at the door when she emerged with her escort. Charles had exerted himself to interest the visiting girl--and she had promised to call him up the next time she was in Indianapolis, which was some compensation for the banalities of the lecture. "It's a fine night; let's walk home," said Phil. Charles discharged the hackman without debate. His had been the only carriage at the door, except Mrs. King's ancient coach, and he felt that Phil had not appreciated his munificence. The remembrance of his encounter with her mother rankled, and as he thought of Fred's rejection of his proposal about the bonds and of Kirkwood's persistent, steady stroke in the traction matter, he was far from convinced by the lessons of the lecture. The sight of Montgomery in its best clothes, showing its delight in optimism, had only aroused his contempt. He had been annoyed by Phil's manifestations of pleasure; she had laughed aloud once at a story, before the rest of the audience caught the point, and he felt that considerable patient labor would be required to smooth out Phil's provincial crudenesses. Phil's spirits soared. The world was, indeed, a good place, and full of charity and kindness. Wayland Brown Bayless had said so; Mrs. John Newman King had done much to prove it. She walked from the hall in one of her moods of exaltation, her head high. "I apologize, Phil; I had no idea the old fellow could be such a bore. I heard him once when I was in college and thought he was the real thing--and it was, to the sophomoric taste." "Oh, he's a perfect dear! Don't you dare apologize! And his stories were perfectly killing--all new to me." "You deserve better things, Phil, than the entertainments this town affords. You were destined for the wider world; I've always felt that about you." He had forced a slower pace than the quick step with which Phil had set out. His mind was working busily. Phil was an exceedingly pretty and a very intelligent girl, and it would be a good stroke on his part to marry her. Amzi would undoubtedly do the generous thing by her. He had made his boast to Fred--and why not? There was no surer way of staying Kirkwood's hand than to present himself as the affianced husband of the lawyer's daughter. Phil's mother did not matter, after all. Kirkwood would probably be relieved to find that Phil had been rescued from a woman he had every reason to hate. "You never looked so well as you did to-night, Phil. I was proud of you. And you won't mind my saying it, but it was fine of you to go with me when--well, you know what I mean." Phil knew what he meant. She said:-- "Fine, nothing. You were kind to ask me and I had a good time every minute." "I wasn't sure you'd go. Things have happened queerly--you know what I mean."