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know,” she admitted ruefully. “Bracken had just sort of sprungit on me when you came in, and once you knew he was here we had to think of something—I mean, there wasn’t much sense in trying to keep it from you for a few more days, you were bound to wonder why he had come.”
    “I was in Washington,” said Bracken, rising to the occasion. “I knew I couldn’t get away again next week for the party, so Mother thought I had better run down now and bring you my present—just a little something extra. Shall we let her have it today?” He put his hand in his pocket and glanced at Sue, who hesitated, for presents ahead of time were against the rules.
    “Well, perhaps—just this once,” she agreed as she was dying to see it herself. Bracken’s presents were always fabulous, just as his father’s had been in the old days.
    Bracken drew out a flat jeweller’s case wrapped in white paper and tied with gold cord, which Phoebe pulled off excitedly , clumsy with eagerness. Inside, on a bed of white satin, was a pendant made of turquoises, diamonds, and pearls, with whole pearl drops and a jewelled filament of chain.
    “ Oh, Cousin Bracken! ”cried Phoebe, and went speechless and misty with pleasure.
    “Let’s put it on,” he suggested, lifting it out with practised fingers.
    “In the m-morning?” said Phoebe, fascinated.
    “It ought to go pretty well with that dress you’ve got on. Turn around.”
    He dropped the chain over her head and slipped the clasp home. Phoebe flew to the mirror above the mantelpiece to gaze at herself. The pendant from Tiffany’s shone against the mended lace yoke of her last year’s blue and white printed muslin as though it was lying on the very latest garden-party frock designed to be worn at Buckingham Palace. Phoebe’s eyes were wistful.
    “Would I see the King?” she asked, still looking in the mirror. “Would I really see him?”
    “I don’t know why not. I saw the Queen the year I went,” said Sue.
    “You’ll certainly see the Coronation Procession from the best seats there are,” Bracken promised. “It’s too late to arrange for a presentation this year, I’m afraid. But we can go to Ascot and Goodwood—he’s sure to be there, he never misses a horse race.”
    “It isn’t just any king,” said Phoebe, at the mirror. “It’s the King of England. I wouldn’t go across the street to see the King of Italy or—or the Kaiser.”
    “Wilhelm would hate to hear you say so,” Bracken grinned.
    Phoebe turned to them, standing very straight and proud, because of the pendant, with wistful eyes.
    “Did you go to Ascot?” she asked Sue.
    “I did. He was the Prince of Wales then, and he recognized Virginia all the way across the Lawn, because he had danced with her at a State Ball and she was saucy to him. He knew her, and they laughed like old friends.”
    Phoebe sighed.
    “I would liketo see the King,” she said. “Just once before I die.”
    “You mean before he died,” said Bracken, but with understanding . “You’re a much better risk than he is—the old boy’s getting on a bit!”
    “What do you wear at Ascot?” Phoebe asked, fingering the pendant.
    “Frills,” said Sue. “Big hats. Feather boas. The best you’ve got. It’s terrific fun.”
    “I haven’t got a big hat and a boa.”
    “You wait,” said Bracken. “Just give Mother a chance. Time hangs heavy on her hands since both the girls got married. She needs another debutante to dress, to keep her spirits up.”
    “Oh, I’d never be like Virginia,” Phoebe warned him. “I’m just a country cousin.”
    “So was I,” Sue reminded her. “But you’ll forget about that. You’ll have the time of your life. I did.”
    “Couldn’t you come too?” Phoebe suggested, holding out a hand to her.
    “Only as far as New York, honey. I can’t be spared here, longer than that. But you’ll be all right with Aunt Eden.”
    “I think I’d better go round by the office and tell Father