It had been decreed that, if Phebe took the child, she should assume the whole responsibility in the matter, and she was resolute in carrying out her share of the compact. Theodora washed her hands of the affair entirely and only viewed it as an immense joke; but Hope, motherly and tender-hearted woman that she was, tried her best to come to the aid of her young sister. It was in vain. The little girl, homesick and forlorn for her wonted ways and plays, appeared to regard Phebe as the sole connecting link between the present gilded captivity and her old-time freedom. She wailed loudly at the approach of any one else, and was only content when her temporary guardian was within sight and touch. For seven weary days, the child was Phebe's inseparable companion and adjunct. On the evening of the eighth day, Phebe came home from New York, burned her syllabi and carried seven bulky tomes back to the public library. "Retail reform isn't of the least use," she said vehemently to Isabel, that night. "Next time, I'll either import a colony, or let the whole thing alone. Either I will go and live with them, or nothing. It doesn't do any good to drag them here to pine for their ashbins. Just wait till next year, Isabel, and we'll try one of the settlements. This year, I've got to go to Quantuck and enjoy myself." With whatever misgivings she started for Quantuck, she certainly achieved her end of enjoying herself. The summer colony, that year, was a large and lively one, and Phebe threw herself into it with the same fervor which had marked her entrance into slumming, and, before that, into medicine. Skeletons and syllabi appeared to be alike forgotten; golf and swimming lessons took their place, and Phebe revelled in her out-of-door life as simply and as sincerely as Mac himself. Out on the cliff at dawn, down on the beach for the bathing hour, out to the links for the afternoon, back on the beach to watch the moon rise, she was perpetually active, perpetually in earnest, perpetually in a hurry. To the others, her energy was amusing and, at times, a little wearing. They liked better to spend long hours on the beach, where their awning soon became a focal point for the fun of the bathing hour; they loved to roam over the moors, to sit down now and then on their own broad piazzas and glance from book to sea and from sea to book again with the curious indifference to time and literature which is characteristic of the place. "Do stay down here, this afternoon," Theodora urged her, one day. "The Bensons are coming over here soon, and it is much more fun to be here, a day like this, than to be prancing around those links." But Phebe shook her head. "I didn't come down here to frivol, Ted; I leave that to you. Nobody knows when I may have another chance to get myself in good form at golf, and I must make the most of this." "But there are more days coming, and the Bensons are such pleasant people to know."