aside a maker of matches from her machinations."

David laughed as the major's wife shook her head at him in gentle
reproof, and he asked interestedly:

"When may we come to call, madam? I judge the lady is under your roof?"

"Soon, dear. She is very tired to-day, and I feel sure you will--"

"Miss Matilda," called Tempie from the hall, "Miss Phoebe is holdin' the
phone fer you. She's at Mis' Cantrell's and she wants ter speak with you
right away."

"Wait, wait, don't answer her right now--ring her off, Tempie! If she has
trouble getting you, Mrs. Matilda, and you keep her talking I can catch
her. Let me get a good start and then answer. Good-by! Keep talking to
her!" And with determination in his eyes David took his hurried
departure.

"Good-by, good luck--and good hunting!" called the major after him.

And with the greatest skilfulness Mrs. Buchanan held Phoebe in hand for
enough minutes to insure David's capture before she returned to the
library.

"Major," she said as she rubbed her cheek against his velvet coat sleeve,
"why do you suppose Phoebe doesn't love David? I can't understand it."

"Matilda," answered the major as he blew a little curl over one of the
soft puffs of her white hair, "you were born in a day when women were all