you must get to work. I will sit here and get up my one o'clock notes for
the imp, and if you need me, tell me so."

The major bestowed a slow quizzical smile upon her and took up his pen.
For an hour they both wrote rapidly with now a quick question from the
major and a concise answer from Phoebe, or a short debate over the
wording of one of his sentences or paragraphs. The editorial minds of the
graybeard and the girl were of much the same quality and they had written
together for many years. The major had gone far in the molding of
Phoebe's keen wit.

"Why, here you are, Phoebe," exclaimed Mrs. Buchanan as she hurried into
the room just as Phoebe was finishing some of her last paragraphs,
"Caroline and I have been telephoning everywhere for you. Do come and
motor out to the Country Club with us for lunch. David and Andrew left
some partridges there yesterday as they came from hunting on Old Harpeth,
to be grilled for us to-day. You are going out there to play bridge with
Mrs. Shelby's guest from Charleston at three, so please come with us
now!"

She was all eagerness and she rested one plump, persuasive little hand on
Phoebe's arm. To Mrs. Matilda, any time that Phoebe could be persuaded to
frolic was one of undimmed joy.

"Now, Mrs. Matilda," said the major, as he smiled at her with the
expression of delight that her presence always called forth even in times
of extreme strenuosity, "do leave Phoebe with me--I'm really a very lorn
old man."

"Why, are you really lonely dear? Then Caroline and I won't think of