Phil used to talk to her in this way when he was home on holidays, at once pleasing and convincing her that he was really getting a college education; but she was not to be put off by any verbal trickery this time.
"Speak out, sir!" she insisted.
"Then, mother can."
"Good!" said Jane. "I wouldn't think much of any man who didn't think his mother could make better strawberry shortcake than any hired girl that ever lived. Always stand up for your own flesh and blood, I say, even if your mother can't make better strawberry shortcake 'n me—which in my opinion she can't."
Discreetly he withdrew from the miracle-working in the kitchen after his mother had put on a big apron, and followed Dr. Sanford into the study. Among the rows of books which made the wall invisible from floor to ceiling were several written by Dr. Sanford, which were considered of some account by students of theology.
"You will be going to England?" he asked, as they sat down.
"Yes, and to France and Germany; a quick trip of it."
"Your first to Europe. I envy you going in your youth, for I went in my youth. Germany, too, eh? The Teutonic influence is spreading in all our universities. We are in the age of materialism. Of course you'll visit our cousin in Hampshire. I have written a letter of introduction."
He took up an envelope addressed to the Reverend Arthur Sanford, The Vicarage, Truckleford, Hants, England. Philip took out the letter and read:
"MY DEAR COUSIN: