“What symptoms?” “Tut, tut, my boy; don’t blush!” “Oh, go to thunder. How’s Miss Kingsford?” “Brave and honest youth! I have the pleasure of informing you that my sister’s health is much the same as when you last saw her some forty-eight hours ago.” “Oh!” “I’ll tell her you said so,” murmured Kingsford politely. “Well, now, look here. I was asked to dinner at your place. And I accepted. I wish you’d hurry things along. I’m awfully hungry.” “Hm; well, I’ll see what can be done. But meanwhile, why don’t you go in and call on Betty and get the edge off your appetite?” “I’m going to.” “The deuce you are! And I’ve been thinking of you as a shy and retiring youth! Why, Betty told me that she couldn’t get a word out of you all during the game.” “She didn’t!” “Didn’t she?” Kingsford grinned again. “Well, maybe she didn’t, then. I guess I won’t tell you what she said.” “Go on, like a good fellow! What was it?” “It was in confidence, my boy. Do you think for a moment that I am one to betray a sister’s confidence? Heaven forfend!” “Please!” “What’ll you give me?” “I refuse to bribe you. I’ll ask her.” “I would. She’s sure to tell you. Listen, then. She said you were a nice boy but frightfully cheeky.” Phillip moulded a slice of graham bread into a round wad and let drive. Kingsford dodged and it took one of the fellows at the far end of the table on the cheek. In the fracas which inevitably followed Kingsford made his escape. Phillip made his call on Wednesday afternoon, taking good care not to appraise Kingsford of his intention, since the latter had solicitously offered to accompany him and by his presence remove some of the embarrassment. The Kingsford residence on Marlborough Street was very broad of front, very high of steps and very aristocratic of aspect, despite the fact that its stone and brick were faded and discoloured by age. An oriel window, quite palpably an addition of recent years, hung out over the doorway and was filled with ferns and carnations in profuse bloom. Phillip was ushered into a surprisingly modern drawing-room and was presently joined by Mrs. Kingsford. During the next five minutes Phillip watched the hall door anxiously until his hostess, divining his thoughts, remarked: “I’m very sorry that Elizabeth is not at home this afternoon. She is taking her painting lesson. She studies with Warrenton, the flower painter, and really does excellently, we think. Besides, she enjoys it greatly and it gives her something to interest her. I tell her I’m certain she must inherit her talent from me, Mr. Ryerson, for I used to do the most beautiful pink and yellow roses on plush plaques when I was her age! I used to think them very lovely.” “I’m sure they were,” said Phillip earnestly.