usual in her dressing-room that evening, and the most of it was taken up
in the discussion and arranging of plans for helping Mrs. Gibson and her
daughter.

"What an unconscionable time you've been upstairs, Elsie," Philip remarked
in a bantering tone, coming to her side as she and her mother returned to
the drawing-room. "I've been dying to speak to you, as the girls say."

"All girls don't talk so, Phil."

"You don't, I know. Would you like a gallop before breakfast to-morrow
morning?"

"Yes, indeed!" she answered, her eyes sparkling, "it's what I'm used to at
home. Papa rides with us almost every morning."

"Will I do for an escort?"

"Oh, yes, if mamma consents. Gert will go too, won't she?"

"No, she prefers her morning nap."

Philip was a manly boy, the neighborhood a safe one, and the pony Elsie
would ride, well-broken and not too spirited, so mamma's consent was
readily given, with the proviso that they should not go before sunrise, or
choose a lonely road.

"By the way," she added, "I should like you to do an errand for me at Mrs.
Gibson's."