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 smiled beamingly on them all. The “Jonas” of Phil’s letter came often, running up from St. Columbia on the early train and departing on the late. He was a general favorite at Patty’s Place, though Aunt Jamesina shook her head and opined that divinity students were not what they used to be.

“He’s very nice, my dear,” she told Phil, “but ministers ought to be graver and more dignified.”

“Can’t a man laugh and laugh and be a Christian still?” demanded Phil.

“Oh, men—yes. But I was speaking of ministers, my dear,” said Aunt Jamesina rebukingly. “And you shouldn’t flirt so with Mr. Blake—you really shouldn’t.”

“I’m not flirting with him,” protested Phil.

Nobody believed her, except Anne. The others thought she was amusing herself as usual, and told her roundly that she was behaving very badly.

“Mr. Blake isn’t of the Alec-and-Alonzo type, Phil,” said Stella severely. “He takes things seriously. You may break his heart.”

“Do you really think I could?” asked Phil. “I’d love to think so.”

“Philippa Gordon! I never thought you were utterly unfeeling. The idea of you saying you’d love to break a man’s heart!”

“I didn’t say so, honey. Quote me correctly. I said I’d like to think I could break it. I would like to know I had the power to do it.”

“I don’t understand you, Phil. You are leading