by practising with the foils in our back garden. Spite of all the
lessons I had taken from an English fencing-master in the town, Phil
was still my superior in the gentlemanly art. After a bout, on this
sunshiny morning, we rested upon a wooden bench, in the midst of a
world of white and pink and green, for the apple and cherry blossoms
were out, and the leaves were in their first freshness. The air was
full of the odour of lilacs and honeysuckles. Suddenly the matter that
was in my mind came out.

"I wish you'd tell me something, Phil--though 'tis none of my
business,--"

"Why, man, you're welcome to anything I know."

"Then, is there aught between Margaret and you--any agreement or
understanding, I mean?"

Phil smiled, comprehending me thoroughly.

"No, there's nothing. I'm glad you asked. It shows there's no promise
between her and you, either."

"I thought you and I ought to settle it between ourselves
about--Margaret. Because if we both go on letting time pass, each
waiting to see what t'other will do, some other man will slip in, and
carry off the prize, and there will both of us be, out in the cold."

"Oh, there's little fear of that," said Phil.

"Why, the fellows are all coming after her. She's far the finest girl