together, to study and paint. In two years more I can make it, if all
goes well."

The striking of a clock made her glance up, exclaiming over the lateness
of the hour. "Phil," she asked, "would you mind telephoning down to the
station to find out if that Washington train is on time? That's a good
boy. That little sister of mine will think the sky has fallen if I'm not
at the station to meet her."

"You don't mean to tell me that _Mary_ is on her way here," exclaimed
Phil, as he rose to do her bidding. "Then I certainly have something to
live for. Her first impressions of New York will be worth hearing." He
scanned the pages of the telephone directory for the number he wanted.

"Yes, she and Betty are to spend their vacation with me. We are going
out to Eugenia's to-morrow afternoon to spend Christmas eve and part of
Christmas day."

"Then that was the surprise that Eugenia wrote about," said Phil, taking
out his watch. "She wouldn't tell what it was, but said that it would be
worth my while to come. Yes, the train is on time."

He hung up the receiver. "I won't be able to wait for it, if I get out
to Eugenia's for dinner, but I can see you safely to the station on my
way. It is about time we were starting if you expect to reach it."

Joyce made a final dab at her picture, dropped the brush and hurried
into the next room for her wraps. It seemed to Phil that he had scarcely
turned around till she was back again, hatted and gloved. The artist in
the long apron had given place to a stylish tailor-made girl in a brown