“You must be crazy, Phil,” she exclaimed once, almost crossly. (She was a little bit jealous, had she but known it.) “The idea of moving everything in the room simply because Miss Kingsford is coming!” “I don’t see that,” Phillip had objected stoutly. “When a fellow’s going to receive the girl he’s to marry――――” “Shucks!” answered Margaret, unimpressed by his intense dignity; “you know you can’t be married for three years at least. And besides, you say yourself that she hasn’t really promised――that there’s no engagement!” “We’re as good as engaged,” answered Phillip. “She just hasn’t said so out and out, that’s all.” Betty had thought out just what she was going to say and just how she was going to behave. Phillip’s sister would be there, of course, and so she would be very dignified and a bit prim, perhaps. She would shake hands with Phil and tell him she was glad he was so much better, and that he must hurry and get fully well. As for the sister――well, Betty hoped she would like her. But if she didn’t――Betty made a face at herself in the mirror. So Miss Elizabeth Kingsford wore her very best gown and descended from the carriage with great dignity. Yet, when she entered the study, followed by Everett, and caught sight of Phillip, she completely forgot her part. She was unprepared for the thin, white-faced and big-eyed Phil that confronted her, and she gave a little gasp of pain and dismay. Miss Elizabeth Kingsford was lost at the door, and it was just Betty that ran across the study and plumped herself into Phillip’s arms and kissed him and cried over him a little. “Oh, Phil, you’re so thin!” she sobbed. “I didn’t know――you――would be like――this!” “Betty, dear Betty!” he murmured to her, a very happy Phillip. “It’s all right, dear; don’t bother about me!” “N-no, I wo-on’t!” sniffled Betty. Then, with a recollection of her brother and Margaret, she raised her head from Phillip’s shoulder and faced them half defiantly. Everett’s look of amazement summoned a little tremulous laugh. “Oh, it’s all right,” she explained, drawing an impatient white-gloved hand across her eyes; “we――we’re engaged, you know.” CHAPTER XXV It was April in New England, but here at Elaine it was May――warm, verdant, fragrant May. To be sure, they called it April, but John, sprawled out on his back on the terrace before the house, with the soft swaying of branches above him and the sun-flecks dancing back and forth across his face, knew better. It was utter nonsense to pretend that only five days had passed since they had left Cambridge. He took his pipe from the corner of his mouth, gripped his hands anew under his head, sighed luxuriously and closed his eyes.