The tumultuous wooing of David Kildare had been going on since her early teens under the delighted eyes of the major, who in turn both furthered and hindered the suit by his extremely philosophical advice.

Phoebe was the crystallization of an infusion of the blood of many cultured, high-bred, haughty women which had been melted in the retort of a stern necessity and had come out a rather brilliant specimen of the modern woman, if a bit hard.  Viewed in some ways she became an alarming augury of the future, but there are always potent counter-forces at work in life’s laboratory, and the kind of forces that David Kildare brought to bear in his wooing were never exactly to be calculated upon.  And so the major spent much time in the contemplation of the problem presented.

And when she had come in after a late lunch to call upon their guest, it had been intensely interesting to the major to regard the effect of the meeting of Phoebe’s and Caroline Darrah’s personalities.  Caroline’s lovely, shy child’s eyes had melted with delight under Phoebe’s straight, gray, friendly glances and her fascination for the tall, strong, radiant woman, who sat beside her, had been so obvious that the major had chuckled to himself under his breath as he watched them make friends, under Mrs. Matilda’s poorly concealed anxiety that they should at once adopt cordial relations.

“And so he consented to undertake the commission for you because he was interested?” Phoebe was asking as they talked about the sketches of the statue.  A very great sculptor was doing the work for Caroline Darrah Brown, and it interested Phoebe to hear how he had consented to accept so unimportant a commission.

“Yes,” answered Caroline in her exquisite voice which showed only the faintest liquid trace of her southern inheritance.  “I told him all about it and he became interested.  He is very great, and simple, and kind.  He made it easy to show him how I felt.  I couldn’t tell him much except how I felt; but I think it has something of—­that—­in—­it.  Don’t you think so?” As she spoke she laid her white hand on the arm of Phoebe’s chair and leaned forward with her dewy tender eyes looking straight into the gray ones opposite her.

For a moment Phoebe returned the glance with a quiet seriousness, then her eyes lighted a second, were suffused with a quick moisture, and with a proud gesture she bent forward, laying both hands on Caroline’s shoulders as she pressed a deep kiss on the girl’s red lips.

“I do think so,” she answered with a low laugh as she arose to her feet, drew Caroline up into the bend of her arm and faced Mrs. Buchanan and the major.  “I know the loveliness in the statue is what the great man got out of the loveliness in your heart, and the major and Mrs. Matilda think so, too.  And I’m going quick because I must; and I’m coming back as soon as I can because I’m going to find you here—­that is partly, Major,” and before they could stop her she had gone on down the hall and they heard her answer Jeff’s farewell as he let her out the door.