Phil saw it, and, while he was amused, he gave Edgar some credit for not having carried out the threat to tell his mother how Phil had guarded her dignity with Eliza.
"So there are some things too petty for him, after all," thought Phil carelessly; but he suspected and was grateful for Kathleen's intervention.
When Edgar was not in evidence, Phil rather enjoyed an evening with his aunt. It gave him an opportunity to talk about his mother, and Mrs. Fabian could tell him events of their girlhood. She soon found that no occurrence in which Mary Sidney had figured was too trifling to bring the light of close attention into the young fellow's eyes.
"Dear me," she said one night when they were alone together, and she had been entertaining him with reminiscence, "I wonder how your mother made you love her so."
There was a sincere wistfulness in her tone that touched Phil. He laughed with some embarrassment, throwing a glance around the too-gorgeous room.
"I don't believe she went for to do it," he said. "I contracted the habit early."
"But Edgar was only five years old when I married his father," said Mrs. Fabian plaintively.
"We didn't have any money," said Phil. "Perhaps that helped. Mother and I were pals, you see; had to be. She could afford only one maid."