Part 50

Mrs. Hilary was grave again.

“And you never told your mother, Phyllis?” she asked.

“N-no, Cousin Mary,” said Miss Phyllis.

I rose and stood with my back to the fire. Little Miss Phyllis took up her sock again, but a smile still played about the corners of her mouth.

“I wonder,” said I, looking up at the ceiling, “what happened at the door.” Then, as no one spoke, I added:

“Pooh! I know what happened at the door.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything more,” said Miss Phyllis.

“But I should like to hear it in your own--”

Miss Phyllis was gone! She had suddenly risen and run from the room!

“It did happen at the door,” said I.

“Fancy Phyllis!” mused Mrs. Hilary.

“I hope,” said I, “that it will be a lesson to you.”

“I shall have to keep my eye on her,” said Mrs. Hilary.

“You can’t do it,” said I in easy confidence. I had no fear of little Miss Phyllis being done out of her recreations. “Meanwhile,” I pursued, “the important thing is this: my parallel is obvious and complete.”

“There’s not the least likeness,” said Mrs. Hilary sharply.

“As a hundred pounds are to a shilling, so is the Grand Prix to the young man opposite,” I observed, taking my hat, and holding out my hand to Mrs. Hilary.

“I am very angry with you,” she said. “You’ve made the child think there was nothing wrong in it.”

“Oh! Nonsense,” said I. “Look how she enjoyed telling it.”

Then, not heeding Mrs. Hilary, I launched into an apostrophe.

“O, divine House Opposite!” I cried. “Charming House Opposite! If only I might dwell forever in the House Opposite!”

“I haven’t the least notion of what you mean,” remarked Mrs. Hilary, stiffly. “I suppose it’s something silly--or worse.”

I looked at her in some puzzle.

“Have you no longing for the House Opposite?” I asked.

Mrs. Hilary looked at me. Her eyes ceased to be absolutely blank. She put her arm through Hilary’s and answered gently--

“I don’t want the House Opposite.”

“Ah,” said I, giving my hat a brush, “but maybe you remember the House--when it was Opposite?”

Mrs. Hilary, one arm still in Hilary’s, gave me her hand. She blushed and smiled.

“Well,” said she, “it was your fault; so I won’t scold Phyllis.”