"I'm sure Amy and I are satisfied with the present subject," returned
Medora.
But Cope rose, and gathered his bathrobe—or dressing-gown—about him. "Wait a moment. I have some photographs I can show you—several of them came only yesterday. I'll bring them down."
As soon as he had disappeared into the hall, Mrs. Phillips gave a slight smile and said quickly:
"For heaven's sake, Amy, don't look so concerned, and mournful, and sympathetic! Anybody might think that, instead of your being my chaperon, I was yours!"
"He doesn't look at all well," said Amy defensively.
"He might look better; but we can't pity a young man too openly. Pity is akin to embarrassment, for the pitied."
Cope came down stairs the second time at a lesser pace. He carried a sheaf of photographs. Some were large and were regularly mounted; others were but the informal products of snap-shottery.
He drew up his chair nearer to theirs and began to spread his pictures over the gray and brown pattern on his lap.
"You know I was teaching, last year, at Winnebago," he said. "Here are some pictures of the place. Science Hall," he began, passing them. "Those fellows on the front steps must be a graduating class.
"The Cathedral," he continued. "And I think that, somewhere or other, I have a group-picture of the choir.