hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the
pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow
the fogs out of her soul. Anne was not wont to be troubled with soul fog. But,
somehow, since her return to Redmond for this third year, life had not mirrored
her spirit back to her with its old, perfect, sparkling clearness.
Outwardly, existence at Patty’s Place was the same pleasant round of work
and study and recreation that it had always been. On Friday evenings the big,
fire-lighted livingroom was crowded by callers and echoed to endless jest and
laughter, while Aunt Jamesina 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 that man on deliberately—and
you know you don’t mean anything by it.”
“I mean to make him ask me to marry him if I can,” said Phil calmly.
“I give you up,” said Stella hopelessly.
Gilbert came occasionally on Friday evenings. He seemed always in good
spirits, and held his own in the jests and repartee that flew about. He neither
sought nor avoided Anne. When circumstances brought them in contact he