selected and sent with the gayest little notes, as like as possible to
the ones that had been coming to her for years. He ordered in an
unusually large basket of eggs from the farm and managed to find a
complicated arrangement of rope and pulleys, the manipulation of which
for an hour or more daily was warranted to add to or detract from the
stature of man or woman, according to the desire of the dissatisfied
individual. His note with the instrument was a scintillating skit and was
answered in kind. But through it all Phoebe was undoubtedly lonely. This
call, the second since Saturday and the second in the history of their
joint existences, betrayed her to the now wily David more than she
realized--perhaps!

He took down the receiver and got the connection.

"That you--dear?" David managed a casual voice with difficulty.

"Yes, David," came in a voice that fairly radiated across the city. "I
only wanted to ask how it goes."

"Fine--with a rip! But you never can tell--about anything. I'm a
Presbyterian and I'll die in doubt of my election. I'm learning not to
count on--things." His voice carried a mournful note that utterly belied
his radiant face. David was enjoying himself to almost the mortal limit!

"David," there was a perceptible pause--"you--there is one thing you can
always count on--isn't there--_me_?" The voice was very gallant but also
slightly palpitating. David almost lost his head but hung on tight and
came up right side.

"Some," he answered, which reply, in the light of an extremely modern use