Well, he was a little pleasanter for a while; but when a telegram came later in the day from Miss Marston, saying she'd be back in ten days to take us to the Cottage, Phil got all off again, and scolded like everything. He said it was a burning shame for us to have to stay in the city and just stew, waiting for Miss Marston to "escort" us to the Cottage, when he and Felix could have taken us there long ago; that he wanted to go in the country right away; that papa'd made a big mistake in keeping us back, and that he'd find it out when 'twas too late,—and all that sort of talk. Felix and Nora did their best to cool him down, but it was no use,—the nicer they were, the more disagreeable he grew; and at last they got provoked and left him to himself.
"I wish Nannie were here," Fee said, as we stood on the landing together, outside Phil's door; "perhaps she could do something with him."
"I just wish she were," I agreed dolefully; and if Nora didn't get miffed because we said that!
I can tell you it wasn't a bit pleasant at home those days. As Fee said, "everybody seemed to be disgruntled," and there wasn't a thing to do but wander around; I missed Betty awfully, she's such a splendid person for keeping up one's spirits.
Toward afternoon, Phil came downstairs, and after dinner we sat on the stoop; he was still rather grumpy, though we pretended not to notice it. Presently Chad came along and took a seat beside us; but at first I don't think anybody, except, perhaps, Nora, paid him much attention. Felix had been very quiet all day, and now he sat with his elbows on his knees, and his hands holding up his face, a far-off look in his eyes, and not saying a word until about half-past eight, when Chad leaned over, and in a low voice asked Phil to go for a walk.
Phil's answer sounded like, "Had enough of it;" and before Chad could say anything more, Fee began to talk to him. I was surprised, for Felix doesn't usually talk to Chad; but to-night, all at once, he seemed to have a friendly fit. He started Chad talking of his travels; then he got Phil into the conversation, and then Nora, and he just kept them all going; he was so bright himself, and funny, and entertaining, that the evening fairly flew by. We were all amazed when ten o'clock struck; soon after that Chad bid good-night, and we shut up the house and went to bed.
'Most always Phil stops in Fee's room for a few minutes: he didn't this evening, though; he just called out,—a little gruffly,—"Good-night, old man!" and marched right into his own room. But I went in.
Fee was sitting on the edge of his bed; he looked almost as tired as he had the night before, though now his eyes were bright and his cheeks red. He turned quickly to me. "Did you think I was wound up to-night?" he asked. Then, before I could answer, "But I kept them—I kept them both, Jack; they didn't go walking to-night,—at least, Phil didn't, and that's the main point. Why, I could go on talking till morning." He got up and limped restlessly about, then stopped near me. "What'll we do to-morrow evening?" he said, "and the next, and the next?—there are ten more, you know. We'll have to think of something, that's all; it'll not be easy, but we'll have to do it. I'm afraid"—Fee spoke slowly, shaking his head—"I'm afraid the pater has made a mistake, a big mistake. Now if Nannie were only here—what an owl you look, Rosebud! Come, off to bed with you!" He threw his arm across my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze, then pushed me out of the room and shut the door.
I have an idea that he didn't sleep very well that night, for the next morning he, too, looked like a owl, in the way of eyes.