"You won't ever be tired helping me, or tired of having me come to you
for help, or tired of my loving you?"

"Where is your faith gone, my child?"

Phebe drew a deep sigh of content. "I am just as happy as can be," she
said. "I don't want any thing else now in the world except just Gerald."

"Ah, Gerald again. I expected that," said Mr. Halloway, raising his
eyebrows humorously.

"Gerald? Pray, who is Gerald?" inquired Mrs. Whittridge.

Her brother lifted his hands in mock amazement. "Is it possible you know
Miss Phebe so long and need ask who Gerald is? I will tell you. Gerald is
perfection individualized. Gerald has all the qualities, mental,
physical, and spiritual, that it is possible to compress into the limited
compass of even an overgrown human frame. Gerald, you must know, is
intellectual to a degree, beautiful as an archangel, adorable as--as you,
Soeur Angélique, and clever--almost--as myself."

Phebe clapped her hands and nodded, "Yes, yes, all that!"

"I can tell you all about Gerald," continued Halloway. "I have heard of
nothing else since I came. Gerald, my dear sister, is Miss Phebe's idol;
I rather think she says her prayers before Gerald's picture every night."

"Oh, please!" cried Phebe.

"But who is this Gerald?" asked Mrs. Whittridge. "Does he live here?"