"Um, Phœbe Metz, you don't look half bad! Now go and do as well as you look. If Aunt Maria heard me she'd be shocked, but what's the use pretending to be so stupid or innocent as not to appreciate your own good points. Any person with good sight and ordinary sense can tell whether their appearance is pleasing or otherwise. I like this dress----" "Phœbe," Aunt Maria's voice came up the stairs. "Yes?" "Why, David's down. Are you done dressing?" "I'll be down in a minute." David Eby, too, was a man grown, but a man so different! Like his cousin, Phares, he was tall. He had the same dark hair and eyes but his eyes were glowing, and his hair was cut close and his chin kept smooth-shaven. Between him and Phœbe there existed the old comradeship, free of restraint or embarrassment. He ran to meet her as her steps sounded on the stairs. But she came down sedately, her hand sliding along the colonial hand-rail, a calm dignity about her, her lovely head erect. "Good-evening," she said in quiet tones. "Whew!" he whistled. "Sweet girl graduate is too mild a phrase! Come, unbend, Phœbe. You don't expect me to call you Miss Metz or to kiss your hand--ah, shall I?" "Davie"--in a twinkling the assumed dignity deserted her, she was all girl again, animated and adorable--"Davie, you're hopeless! Here I pose before the mirror to find the most impressive way to hold my head and be sufficiently dignified for the occasion, and you come bursting into the hall like a tomboy, whistling and saying funny things." "I'm awfully sorry. But you took my breath away. I haven't gotten it back yet"--he breathed deeply. "David, will you ever grow up?" "I'll have to now. I see you've gone and done it." "Ach no," she lapsed into the childhood expression. "I'm not grown up. But how do I look? You won't tell me so I have to ask you." "You look like a Madonna," he said seriously. "Oh," she said impatiently, "that sounded like Phares." "Gracious, then I'll change it! You look like an angel and good enough to eat. But honestly, Phœbe, that dress is dandy! You look mighty nice." "Glad you think so. Shall I tell you a secret, David? I'm scared pink about to-night." "You scared?" He whistled again. "Don't be so smart," she said with a frown. "Were you scared on your Commencement night?" "Um-uh. At first I was. But you'll get over it in a few minutes. The lights and the glory of the occasion dim the scary feeling when you sit up there in the seats of honor. You should be glad your oration is first." "I am. Mary Warner is welcome to her Valedictory and the long wait to deliver it." Phœbe stiffened a bit at the thought of the other girl. Since the days when the two girls attended the rural school on the hill and Mary Warner was the possessor of curls while Phœbe wore the despised braids the other girl seemed to have everything for which Phœbe longed.