"We have no idea of trying to hinder him," said Mrs. Waterman with dignity. "As you say, it's Tom's trouble. And of course we could manage so Phil wouldn't suffer, no matter what he did." "Phil suffer! Thunder! What are you always talking about Phil for; I tell you Phil's all right! Phil's got more gumption than all the rest of us put together. Phil's an honor to the family; she's the best girl in this town and the best girl in the whole state of Indiana, or the United States, for that matter. If you have visions of seeing Phil chased over the back lot by any stepmother, you have another guess coming. Thunder!" He drew out a white silk handkerchief and blew his nose. The sisters saw with regret that there was no recurring to the attractive subject of that interview in Chicago, though their minds were beset with a thousand questions they wished to ask him about it. They realized that to do so would be a blunder. They had stumbled upon a gold mine and were obliged to leave its rich hoard untouched. They returned to Phil, who, as a topic, offered safer ground than her mother. "Phil's party," said Mrs. Hastings briskly, "ought to be in keeping with the family dignity. We thought it a lot better for you to have it in your house than for us--our own houses are small." (This with resignation.) "And it doesn't seem quite nice for _us_ to have it in the Masonic Hall, though some of the nicest people are doing that. To bring Phil out in her grandfather's house speaks for the whole family. And it's dear of you to consent to it. We all appreciate that, Amzi." "Of course it's the place for it!" affirmed Amzi impatiently. "I'll give that party and you can get whatever Phil needs and do it right; you understand? And then I want you to give me all the bills. Now what else do you want?" "We feel," began Mrs. Fosdick, "that the invitations, which will go out in your name, should take in everybody we want Phil to know." Amzi grinned guardedly. "That's pretty good, Fanny. Do you suppose there's a man, woman, baby, or yellow dog in this town that Phil doesn't know? I doubt it. But go on." "We don't mean that way, Amzi," said Mrs. Waterman patiently. "We mean--" "Thunder! Go on!" "We mean that the list should be representative--that old differences should be put aside." The wrinkles on Amzi's pink pate scampered back to find refuge in his absurd fringe of pale-gold hair. Mrs. Waterman advanced her pickets hurriedly. "You know we've had to recognize the Holtons of late, disagreeable though it has been. William isn't like Jack--you know that; and when he brought his wife here, a perfect stranger, it didn't seem fair to ignore her." "The fact is," Mrs. Fosdick interpolated, "we simply couldn't, Amzi. This town's too small to carry on a feud comfortably. We all stopped speaking to the Holtons after poor Lois left, but the rest of them couldn't help what Jack did; and, of course, Lois--" "You want to ask Mr. and Mrs. William to Phil's party?"