HARRY TREWMAN and his sister were invited to dine with the Highwoods, although Fenie declared that after what had been said to them, neither of them would think for an instant of coming. For herself, she was sure that she couldn't and wouldn't face them for all the world, and that she never wanted to see either of them again. Should they accept the invitation, Fenie declared that she would excuse herself with the sick headache, which she certainly would have on the occasion.

When, however, the Trewmans did decline, on the plea of a previous engagement, Fenie was so inconsistent as to declare that she was the most miserable person alive, and that she wished she was dead.

Then every one in the house, from the master down to the single servant, became wretched, for Fenie had always been a cheerful creature, romping with Trixy as if she herself was not more than seven years old, singing merrily throughout the day, and working harder than any hireling when there was work to be done.

Trif talked sensibly to the girl; Phil joked with her, but Trixy remained almost as silent as a mute, and looked as if she were laboring under a heavy load of remorse and contrition. Even her father's boisterous play, of which she was as fond as if she were a boy, was treated as if it was far too good for her, and as if she had no right to enjoy it. Then Phil began to worry.

"Trif," said he, "you must reason that child out of her remorse, or you'll have an invalid on your hands."

"I hope and pray that I may not, for I already have one invalid. I'm seriously frightened about Fenie. The only fault I've ever had to find with her was that she never would take things seriously, no matter how important they were, but now—oh, it seems as if all the seriousness of the Wardlow blood was concentrated in her, and all on account of the innocent blundering of that darling child. I know the affair is shattering her health, and sometimes I fear it is injuring her reason."

"Nonsense! Give her a change of some kind, and she'll recover quickly. At present she doesn't love that fellow, although I suppose she thinks she does—girls as young as she are very likely to mistake mere interest in a man for something more serious. Take her, and Trixy, on a little trip somewhere—run down to Florida and back. This is just the season for such a trip."

"Philip Highwood! You talk as if we were made of money. We haven't a fortune."

"But we have, my dear; we have two fortunes. Fenie is one and Trixy is the other, and I don't intend to lose either, if I can help it."

"A trip to Florida may cost all we've saved."

"What does that matter, if it saves Fenie and Trixy for us? "

Phil had his way in the end, for the good and sufficient reason that he and Trif loved each other so well that it took but a few moments' talk to make the way of one the way of both, no matter who devised it. The Florida trip cost Phil some pangs, for he had intended to start a country home in the spring—a modest one, but everything costs money in this practical world of ours. He did not look forward with pleasure, either, to being separated from his wife and child for a fortnight or more, for they had seldom been apart more than a single day; nevertheless, he kept all these things to himself, although he did much thinking about them.

As to the travelers, Trif assured Fenie, in entire honesty, that Phil was dreadfully troubled about Trixy's health, upon which Fenie made haste to show that she really could think of more than one thing at a time.

Trixy was informed, with equal care, but far more detail, that her Aunt Fee was quite ill, but that not a word was to be said about it in any circumstances, even to Aunt Fee herself.

"I know all about it," said the child, her eyes filling with tears, "and I was the dreadful little girl that made her sick. I thought lots about it, and prayed lots about it, and cried whole pillows-ful about it, but it hasn't done any good."

"Now is the time to do a lot of good, dear; you can mend your ways by trying to help mend Aunt Fee."

So it was arranged that Trixy should regard herself as her Aunt Fee's one special nurse during the Southern trip, and that Trif should be physician, to be consulted whenever necessary, although the best medicine, for the invalid, Trif declared, would be some of Trixy's chat and play.

"The best medicine she could have would be a long look at Harry Trewman's face," added Phil, as the child left the room. "If she——"

"I just came back, mamma," said Trixy, returning suddenly, "to tell papa that if Miss Trewman brings around them—I mean those—half a dozen dolls, that he'll express 'em to me, won't he? 'Cause I've told all my other dolls about it, and they look disappointeder and disappointeder every mornin' when they wake up. And papa'll send me any letters that come for me, won't he?" Then Trixy danced away again, while her father remarked:

"If that child's imagination keeps in growth with her body, there'll be a woman novelist in the family in the course of time."

Trif and Trixy and Fenie started for Florida by easy stages, Phil having told his wife that two or three stops could be made at places where a sorrowful girl of temperament naturally lively might have her thoughts diverted in spite of any determination to the contrary.

The first stop was at Old Point Comfort, which most young women who have been there prefer to call Fortress Monroe, for the largest fort in the United States is there, and within it are always thirty or forty officers, who, whether young or old, make delightful company of themselves, during their brief moments off duty, for all charming women at the enormous hotel which, with the fort, contains almost the entire population of Old Point Comfort. For the rest, there is little there but water and air—but such water and air! At one side of the fort is the James River, several miles wide, at the other side is Chesapeake Bay, so wide that one cannot see the other shore, while in front Hampton Roads extends ten miles away, to the outskirts of the ancient and picturesque city of Norfolk.

Fenie conscientiously intended to be unhappy, no matter where she might be, no matter how much attention she might give to Trixy. Besides, the party arrived at the Point about sunrise in early April, when scarcely any one was stirring, and the outside of a great hotel is not an inspiriting object to contemplate when there is no human being visible to relieve it.

Trixy, however, had not determined to be anything dreadful, so she was no sooner ashore and feeling the gentle sea breeze upon her cheeks and in her lungs, than she began running to and fro on the beach in front of the hotel, and tossing pebbles at Fenie, and even dropping a small pebble between Fenie's collar and neck, and Fenie called her a dreadful little wretch and began to chase her, for there was no one by to see, except Trif, who made no objection. The sea air had been stimulating Fenie, too, and before she had thought it possible to do anything inconsistent with sentimental dismalness she had acquired rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and an earnest longing for breakfast. As for Trif, she sought the telegraph office to wire her husband:

"Both invalids already much better."

After breakfast Trif chanced to meet an old acquaintance on the piazza. Fenie, by a violent effort, regained her sadness and declined to meet any one. As Phil had said that ladies and children could safely go about unattended at Old Point, Trif begged Trixy to take her Aunt Fee a long walk on the beach, and to play as freely as she liked. Then Trif begged Fenie to keep dear Trixy out of doors, under the mild sun and in the invigorating air, and Fenie was glad of an excuse to get away from other people, so the couple strolled along the beach, in the direction of the lighthouse and the water battery, enjoying the strangeness of everything they saw.

"What's that bird-cage on top of that funny little straight up-and-down house for?" asked Trixy, pointing to the lighthouse.

"That's not a bird-cage, dear. That is the light that the Government puts in its window here, to show the sailors the way home. It burns very brightly, and all night long."

"Dear me! What a big gas bill the Government must have to pay! Say, Aunt Fee, what's that big black thing on the grass, on the top of the wall of the fort?"

"That's a cannon."

"What is it for?"

"Oh, to kill bad people with."

"Gracious! Is there such lots of bad people down here as that? Papa said the place was so nice and safe."

"It is safe enough, dear, for us. The bad people that are shot with cannons come here from other countries."

"When do they come?"

"Oh, don't ask me," said Fenie, who was trying to keep from not keeping miserable, but was not succeeding very well.

"Who shall I ask?"

"Oh, one of the soldiers, I suppose."

Fenie sat upon a rock which formed part of a little breakwater, looked out to sea, and took a pensive attitude, while Trixy stood and stared at the cannon, and wondered, and wished she knew more about the killing of bad people by artillery.

Just then Lieutenant Bruce Jermyn, of the artillery service, came from the flank of the water battery and walked toward the hotel. He was no pink-faced, slender youth, like lieutenants in most military novels, but a handsome, stout, manly-looking fellow of about thirty-five years, like hundreds of other lieutenants of our army in time of peace. Trixy saw him, hurried to him, and said:

"Mr. Soldier, will you please tell me when you're going to kill some bad people with the cannon?"

"Eh?" said Jermyn, taking his cigar from his lips and raising his cap. "Oh, not until they come here and insist upon being killed, I suppose."

"Why? Do they insist upon bein' killed, and come here to have you do it for them?"

"Um—er—well, we like to be ready, in case they should come, although we hope they'll stay away. I beg your pardon, but will you tell me your name? You look very like some one whom I used to know."

"My name's Trixy Highwood, and that's Aunt Fee, sittin' on the rocks there, and——"

"And her last name is?——"

"Wardlow."

"Well, well." The officer did not sigh, but he looked reminiscent; then he took both of Trixy's hands, looked intently into the child's face, and said:

"I knew your mother about ten years ago."

"Oh, Aunt Fee." shouted Trixy. "Come here—quick! Here's one of mamma's friends."

The awakening was somewhat rude, but when Fenie turned her head and saw an officer approaching, with Trixy, she at once became a curious yet dignified young woman. She arose and met the couple, as Jermyn saluted and said:

"The child is to blame for this interruption, Miss Wardlow. I recognized her by her resemblance to her mother, whom I hope you may have heard speak of me. My name is Jermyn. My battery was stationed in New York Harbor a few years ago."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Fenie, in pleased surprise. She had heard frequently of the young officer whom Trif had admired greatly, before Phil Highwood had laid siege to her heart. Phil, too, had heard much about him, and feared him, as any civilian suitor fears a rival who wears a military uniform. Fenie had often wished she might one day meet the man of whom she had heard so much, and now she was face to face with him, and—really, what a fine-looking fellow he was!

"What's inside of them—the cannons?" asked Trixy.

"Nothing more dangerous than air," the officer replied.

"Children are so idiotically curious," said Fenie.

"Oh, merely naturally so. Mayn't I show your niece one of the guns?—and won't you accompany us? 'Tis but a step or two to the water battery. By the way, I hope that Mr. and Mrs. Highwood are here?"

"My sister is," Fenie replied. "We came down here hastily—indeed, we are on our way to Florida, for their dear child's health."

"I must do myself the honor of calling at once."

"Won't you wait," said Trixy appealingly, "until you show me the bad-people-killers?"

"Surely," replied Jermyn, "if afterward you will guide me to your mother."

The visit to the guns was prolonged to include a tour of the fort, about which Fenie was wildly curious, for she had never been inside of a fort, as her sister had in the days to which Jermyn had alluded, and she and Trif were such inseparable companions that she wished to know of everything that Trif knew. Jermyn proved to be capital company; besides, was he not a one-time admirer of Fenie's sister? Fenie felt entirely at ease with him, and she was delighted with the strangeness of everything she saw, so soon she was chatting as freely and cheerily as if she had never known a trouble.

Later in the morning Trif, seated on the piazza near the beach, was astonished to see her sister approaching with an army officer, with whom she seemed to be well acquainted. Soldiers looked very much alike to Trif; besides, she was so delighted at the sudden improvement in Fenie's appearance that she did not recognize Jermyn until her sister, with a roguish look, said:

"Trif, I'm astonished! Should auld acquaintance be forgot?"

"Mrs. Highwood!"

"Oh, Mr. Jermyn!"

Neither blushed, although Fenie had hoped they would. As for Trixy, who had not had much opportunity to talk during the walk through the fort, she looked intently at her invalid charge, her dear Aunt Fee. The instant there was a lull in the conversation, Trixy could not help saying:

"Mamma, seems to me that somethin's made Aunt Fee look awful weller all at once; don't you think so?"

Then the blushes, for which Fenie had looked in her sister's cheeks, hurried into her own, and refused to depart.