"What is it, Phyllis?" he asked tenderly.
"You have not been to see me all day," she said in her most plaintive tones, "and it makes me sad. How could I ever bear to lose you, Philip! You and I have been more to one another than any of the others; haven't we? I was thinking just then how we used to play together when we were quite little creatures. Do you remember?"
"I never forget it, Phyllis," he answered; "you have belonged to me as long as I can recollect. How can you imagine you could ever lose me?"
"I am afraid of it sometimes," she whispered, with a sob that pierced him to the heart.
"My darling!" he cried, "that could never be! never! You used to be my little wife when we were children, and you will be my real wife as soon as I am old enough to marry. I suppose we are very young yet, my Phyllis; too young. We must wait at least till I come of age——"
"But I'm afraid of Dorothy," she said, with another sob. "My mother says your father is making up his mind you shall marry her, and your mother is just wrapped up in her. She cares very little for me now, and Dorothy is all the world to her."
"No, no!" he exclaimed, "my mother is not changeable; she loves you as much as ever. Of course Dorothy takes up a good deal of her time, for the poor child has been taught nothing. You cannot be jealous of her, Phyllis. Only think of all you are, and all you know, and compare yourself with a little untrained, awkward girl like Dorothy. Why, there is not a maid in our house who has not been taught more."
"But how fond your father is of her!" said Phyllis.
"And how fond she is of him!" replied Philip, laughing; "she has neither eyes nor ears for anyone else when he is by, except my mother. And she drinks in all he says upon every topic as if she understood it. I suppose she does in some measure, for she has some brains in that little head of hers. But no man could resist such sweet flattery; and I believe he loves her next to my mother."
"More than you boys?" suggested Phyllis.