For one who had pledged herself never to lose her temper again under any circumstances, Queenie was a good deal excited, as she wrenched her hand from Phil’s and flounced from the room, leaving him to chuckle over her anger, which he had anticipated, and which he felt sure would result in her doing just as he wished her to do. And he was right in his calculations, for, after the lapse of an hour or two, during which Pierre had brought him his lunch, the little lady appeared in a most repentant frame of mind, and standing by him, with her hand on his shoulder, said: “I am sorry, Phil, I was so angry with you. I did not think I ever should be again, but you did rouse me so with your _cats_, and _compromising_, and all that, after you had asked me to go. But I see you were right. It would not be proper at all, and people would be sure to talk. But you must take Pierre. I should feel safer about you, and can do very well without him. I know the way to Florida, and shall start to-morrow, for if it is improper for me to take care of you in the mountains, it is improper here, now you are so much better; so I am going back to Magnolia Park. But, Phil,” and Queenie’s voice began to tremble, “you’ll come there next winter, won’t you? You, and Ethel, and Grace, and Margery? That will make it quite proper and conventional, and it is so lonely there.” She was crying by this time, and Phil, who, as she was talking, had stolen his arm around her, drew her down upon his knee and, brushing away her tears, said: “Yes, darling, if you are in Florida next winter, or next week, I shall be there, too; for in the words of Naomi, ‘Where thou goest I shall go,’ whether to the mountains or to the moon, and, as the mountains suit me best just now, what say you to going there at once?” “But I thought you said I wasn’t to go—that it would be very disreputable, or some other dreadful word like that? I don’t understand you at all,” Queenie said, hotly, and Phil replied: “You are an innocent chick, that’s a fact, and cannot see through a millstone. I said that as Queenie _Hetherton_ you must not go scurriping round the world with a yellow-haired chap of the period like me; but as Queenie Rossiter, my wife, you will be a matron _sans reproche_.” “_Your wife_, Phil!” Queenie exclaimed, starting suddenly and trying to free herself from him. But he held her fast, and answered: