Philip's perfunctory gaze quickened.
"And you left my mother a little book?" he asked quickly.
The pressure of the newcomer's handclasp tightened. He nodded.
"The very same," he said. "And you do belong to that charming woman."
"You did a great deal for us, Mr. Tremaine," said Phil heartily.
"And this Kathleen child says we're not through with each other. She wants you to illustrate this clever little book of hers."
"If he will," put in the girl quickly. "You don't know yet what small business it will be for him to picture my stuff. Show us what you have done this morning."
"I hear you are my neighbor in Gramercy Park," said Mr. Tremaine while Phil stooped to get his picture. "I hear that the artist who did my son's treasure, 'The Proud Robin,' stands before me."
Phil laughed and turned his canvas about. A great wave uplifted its heavy snowy crest, just at the point of breaking into rushing surge.