going. We'll stay right here to lunch with you. I will go tell her and
you put up your books and papers and we will bring our sewing and chat
with you and Phoebe. It will be lovely."

"Matilda," answered the major hastily with real alarm in his eyes, "I
insist that you unroll my strings to your apron as far as the Country
Club this once. I capitulate--no man in the world ever had more attention
than I have. Why, Phoebe knows that--"

"Indeed, indeed, he really doesn't want us, Mrs. Matilda. Let's leave him
to his Immortals. I will be ready in a half-hour if I can write fast
here. Tell Caroline Darrah to hunt me up a fresh veil and phone Mammy
Kitty not to expect me home until--until midnight. Now while you dress I
will write."

"Very well," answered Mrs. Buchanan, "if you are sure you don't need us,
Major," and with a caress on his rampant lock she hurried away.

"You took an awful risk then, Major," said Phoebe with a twinkle in her
eyes.

"I know it," answered the major. "I've been taking them for nearly forty
years. It's added much to this affair between Mrs. Buchanan and me. Small
excitements are all that are necessary to fan the true connubial flame. I
didn't tell her about all this because I really hadn't the time. Tell her
on the way out, for I expect there will be a rattle of musketry as soon
as the dimity brigade hears the circumstances."

Then for a half-hour Phoebe and the major wrote rapidly until she
gathered her sheets together and left them under his paper-weight to be