t into the parlor to see Ned and Grant for an hour in the
morning.

From that time on, his days began to pass more quickly. With Ned and
Marjorie at their head, the young people showed unlimited patience and
ingenuity in planning new amusements for their friend; and not a day
passed that they did not descend upon him in a body, laden with
offerings of fruit and flowers, trophies of their fishing expeditions,
and bits of gay gossip from mine and smelter, choir and Chinatown.

Marjorie, in particular, was his devoted slave. For the past few weeks,
she had been carrying, deep down in her heart, a little sore spot, left
there by the stinging memory of her hasty words an hour before the
accident; and, now that she could see her friend once more, she did her
best to make amends for her past sins. But though her endless fun and
rollicking kindness gave Charlie many a pleasant hour, it was to Allie
that he turned in any emergency, for her long days of devotion to him
had proved her a staunch, true friend.

"Allie is a pretty good sort of girl," he confided to Ned one day.
"She's just the kind to have round when you aren't well, for she's
jolly, and takes first-rate care of you, without being soft."

One afternoon, about three or four weeks after the accident, Marjorie
and the three boys were sitting on the little front porch at the
Everetts', reposing after a long ride. It was a cool, cloudy day; the
mist lay low over the mountain sides, and closed in between the walls
of the canon, and the wind blew up fresh and sharp. Allie had watched
the little group of riders as they cantered past the house and, turning
the corner, stopped at the Everetts'. Then she was seized with a sudden
inspiration.

"Get up, lazy boy," she commanded, going into her room where Charlie lay
on the sofa, stretched out at his ease, with his arms folded under his
head. "Mamma's coming in here, in a minute, to put on your blinders, and
then let's go down to the Everetts' for an hour. They're all down there,
and we'll take them by surprise."

Charlie started up eagerly enough. It was the longest walk that he had
taken, and he was glad to get out of his dull routine; so, ten minutes
later, he was on his way, with his hat pulled down over his face to
cover the ignominious bandage, and Allie's hand on his arm.

Grant was the first to see him coming.

"Hurrah!" he shouted. "There's Charlie Mac!"

"Where?" exclaimed Ned, turning around with a suddenness