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either being aware of it.
"Will you come in?" asked Phebe when the mistake was rectified
and she stood on her own steps looking down at her escort, who
had discreetly released her before a pull at the bell caused five
heads to pop up at five different windows.
"No, thanks. I shall be at church this afternoon, and the oratorio
this evening. I must be off early in the morning, so let me make the
most of precious time and come home with you tonight as I did
before," answered Archie, making his best bow, and quite sure of
"You may." And Phebe vanished, closing the door softly, as if she
found it hard to shut out so much love and happiness as that in the
heart of the sedate young gentleman who went briskly down the
street humming a verse of old "Clyde" like a tuneful bass viol:
"Oh, let our mingling voices rise
In grateful rapture to the skies,
Where love has had its birth.
Let songs of joy this day declare
That spirits come their bliss to share
With all the sons of earth."
That afternoon Miss Moore sang remarkably well, and that
evening quite electrified even her best friends by the skill and
power with which she rendered "Inflammatus" in the oratorio.
"If that is not genius, I should like to know what it is?" said one
young man to another as they went out just before the general
crush at the end.
"Some genius and a great deal of love. They are a grand team, and,
when well driven, astonish the world by the time they make in the
great race," answered the second young man with the look of one
inclined to try his hand at driving that immortal span.
"Daresay you are right. Can't stop now she's waiting for me. Don't
sit up, Mac."
"The gods go with you, Archie."
And the cousins separated one to write till midnight, the other to
bid his Phebe good-bye, little dreaming how unexpectedly and
successfully she was to earn her welcome home.
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