conspicuous position. The hand containing it was drawn behind her
back.

"That will be very nice of her. Better post the letter, though.
Somebody's expecting it, you know. Hullo! That's not a nice way to
treat a letter. Let me straighten it out for you.''

"Never mind, Phil--really, I don't care about it. You surprised me so
tremendously that I fear I've ruined it. Now I shall have to write
another."

"Fiddlesticks! Send it as it is. The prince will blame the
postoffice people," cried he.

"It is not for the prince," she cried, quickly, and then became more
confused than ever. "Come to the house, Phil. You must tell me how
you happen to be here."

As they walked slowly to the Garrison home and mounted the steps,
she religiously held the epistle where he could not regard it too
closely should his curiosity overcome his prudence. They were
ushered into the reception room, and she directed the footman to ask
if Mrs. Garrison could see Mr. Quentin.

"Now, tell me all about it," she said, taking a chair quite across
the big room.

"There's nothing to tell," he said. "I am in Brussels, and I thought
I'd hunt you up."