is an inch or two?"

"But how about me?" demanded Mrs. Phillips.

"Why, a woman may be anything--except too tall," responded Cope candidly.

"But if she wants to be stately?"

"Well, there was Queen Victoria."

"You incorrigible! I hope I'm not so short as that! Sit down, again; we
must be more on a level. And you, Mr. Randolph, may stand and look down on
us both. I'm sure you have been doing so, anyway, for the past ten
minutes!"

"By no means, I assure you," returned Randolph soberly.

Soberly. For the young man had slipped in that "sir." And he had been so
kindly about Randolph's five foot seven and a bit over. And he had shown
himself so damnably tender toward a man fairly advanced within the shadow
of the fifties--a man who, if not an acknowledged outcast from the joys of
life, would soon be lagging superfluous on their rim.

Randolph stood before them, looking, no doubt, a bit vacant and
inexpressive. "Please go and get Amy," Mrs. Phillips said to him. "I see
she's preparing to give way to some one else."

Amy--who was a blonde girl of twenty or more--came back with him pleasantly
and amiably enough; and her aunt--or whatever she should turn out to be--
was soon able to lay her tongue again to the syllables of the interesting