The "Thunder" was due to the fact that in his excess of emotion over the difficulties with his raiment, his eyes had not until that instant taken in Phil. His jaw fell as he stared and tears filled his eyes. Above the soft folds of her white crepe gown the firm clean lines of her shoulders and throat were revealed and for the first time he fully realized that the Phil who had gladdened his days by her pranks--Phil the romp and hoyden--had gone, and that she would never be quite the same again. There was a distinct shock in the thought. It carried him back to the day when her mother had danced across the threshold from youth to womanhood, with all of Phil's charm and grace and her heart of laughter. Phil fanned herself languidly, feigning to ignore his bewilderment. An aigrette in her hair emphasized her height. She lifted her arms and, whistling softly, pirouetted about the room. Her movements were those of vigorous, healthy youth. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks aglow. "Thunder!" gasped Amzi, feeling absently of his collar. "Is that you, Phil?" "Generally speaking, it _ain't_, Amy. What do you think of the gladness of these joyful rags anyhow?" "You look right, Phil. You've grown about six inches since I saw you last. High heels?" She thrust out a slipper for his inspection. "Those clothes are not as bad as some I've seen. I don't mind the low-in-the-neck effect when there's a neck to show like yours. Most of 'em look like the neck of a picked gander. I guess Fanny did about the right thing. Fanny's taste is usually pretty fair." "Oh, the whole syndicate took a hand in it," said Phil with a sigh. "They nearly wore me out; but they were so busy consulting each other that they didn't notice that I chose the crepe myself. But I wanted you to like my things, Amy." "Of course I like 'em. You certainly look grand." He rummaged in one of the chiffonier drawers. "Just wait a minute," he said; "you've got to fix this fool thing for me." He placed a fresh tie round his white-wing collar and loosely crossed the ends. "I ain't going to take any chances of spoiling this. Now, Phil, do your noblest." "With gloves on? Well, I'm used to doing daddy's over again, so here goes." He stood with his chin in air while she tied the bow. Her youth, her loveliness, her red lips, compressed at the crucial moment when the bow took form, moved and thrilled him. No one in the world had ever been so dear to him as Phil! When she rested her hands on his shoulders and tilted her head to one side to study her handiwork he raised himself on his toes and lifted his hands, in one of which he had concealed something. "Bend your head a little, Phil; I ought to have a ladder for this." And in a moment he drew down upon her neck a chain with a pendant of pearls, which he had chosen with the greatest care at the best jeweler's in Indianapolis. "Now look at yourself!"