self again, and once more
made his way to the little house in Mervan Street in glad expectation. A
terrible disappointment awaited him. Phoebe major was not at home!
Phoebe minor, however, executed gleeful saltations in honour of his
arrival.

"How is 'oo, Dot Dandy? Twite, twite well? Phoebe pray Dod every day
make Dot well!"

The big man stooped and kissed the tiny prattler, and thus avoided the
necessity for speech. His heart seemed to have risen in his throat, and
made a huge lump there.

Hurriedly taking his departure, he determined to call another day, but
though he went again and again, it was with no better luck. Then he
understood that Mrs Cameron's repeated absences were not the result of
accident, but of design. She had been kind in her daily inquiries after
him, but now that he had recovered, she was decided they should not
meet.

A few days later the child had a feverish cold, and to his chagrin he
heard that Doctor Davis had been sent for. That made it quite evident he
was not wanted. He made no effort to go, but smarted under the sense of
injury. His better reason argued that as she had intentionally broken
with him, she could not demand his attendance on the infant without risk
of unavoidable meeting. But why had she so behaved? Had he not saved her
child, the light of her life, the aim of her future? Had he not
determined studiously to forget her accidental show of anxiety for him,
prompted by ignorance of the child's immediate danger? Why had she asked
after him daily? Why had little knots of flowers been left by bairn and
nurse, and why, ah, why! had the wee lips uttered a prayer for him?

"Perhaps the child had acted of her own impulse," sighed his modesty.

"Perhaps she had been so taught," panted his hope.

At last he determined to end the estrangement or let friendship perish
in the attempt. He wanted nothing but her forgiveness; that he felt he
deserved.

He knew every afternoon at five the nurse was relieved by Mrs Cameron,
who watched in the nursery while the babe slept. That hour, therefore,
was chosen for his visit. He mounted the stairs two at a time and rapped
at the familiar door. There was no answer. He turned the handle and
entered.

Phoebe major sat at the open window idle. She was reading the picture
promise of the clouds. Phoebe minor in a cot slept rosily in the far
corner of the room.

"Good afternoon," he whispered softly, in order not to disturb the
little slumberer.