"How can I brace up?" she asked with indignation in her eyes. "Don't you dare to scold me."
There was a breath of silence in which the two looked into each other's eyes. Many thoughts came flashing into the mind of Mrs. Bing. Why had the girl spoken the word "you" so bitterly? Little echoes of old history began to fill the silence. She arose and picked up the cushion and threw it on the sofa.
"What a temper!" she exclaimed. "Young lady, you don't seem to know that these days are very precious for you. They will not come again."
Then, in the old fashion of women who have suddenly come out of a moment of affectionate anger, they fell to weeping in each other's arms. The storm was over when they heard the feet of J. Patterson Bing in the hall. Phyllis fled into the bathroom.
"Hello!" said Mr. Bing as he entered the door. "I've found out what's the matter with Phyllis. It's nerves. I met the great specialist, John Hamilton Gibbs, at luncheon to-day. I described the symptoms. He says it's undoubtedly nerves. He has any number of cases just like this one—rest, fresh air and a careful diet are all that's needed. He says that if he can have her for two weeks, he'll guarantee a cure. I've agreed to have you take her to his sanitarium in the Catskills to-morrow. He has saddle horses, sleeping balconies, toboggan slides, snow-shoe and skating parties and all that."
"I think it will be great," said Phyllis, who suddenly emerged from her hiding-place and embraced her father. "I'd love it! I'm sick of this old town. I'm sure it's just what I need."
"I couldn't go to-morrow," said Mrs. Bing. "I simply must go to Mrs. Delane's luncheon."
"Then I'll ask Harriet to go up with her," said J. Patterson.
Harriet, who lived in a flat on the upper west side, was Mr. Bing's sister.