children were, that he might bid them good-bye. He wondered, indeed,
that Madge had not told her mother of his resolve, for, from that
lady's not seeking him at once, he knew that she was still unaware of
it. He little guessed that 'twas the girl's own power over him she
wished to test, and that she would not enlist her mother's persuasions
but as a last resource.

"I don't know," she replied carelessly.

"I shall look for them," said Philip, and turned to go down-stairs
again.

But (though how could a boy imagine it?) Miss Faringfield would not
have it that his yielding should be due to her mother, if it could be
achieved as a victory for herself. So she stopped him with a sudden
tremulous "Oh, Phil!" and, raising her forearm to the door-post, hid
her face against it, and wept as if her heart would break.

Philip had never before known her to shed a tear, and this new
spectacle, in a second's time, took all the firmness out of him.

"Why, Madge, I didn't know--don't cry, Madgie--"

She turned swiftly, without looking up, and her face, still in a
shower of tears, found hiding no longer against the door-post, but
against Phil's breast.

"Don't cry, Madgie dear,--I sha'n't go!"

She raised her wet face, joy sparkling where the lines had not yet