rubbed her eyes, yawning. "Let me alone, Phil! I'm half dead with
sleep.--Heavens, where am I? Why are you so cross? Oh, Phil," she
gasped, memory returning in a flood. "How is he? Is he conscious yet?"

"Who, Channing? Extremely conscious, I should say, and very much ashamed
of himself. He is making an excellent breakfast in the next room."

His stern voice caused her to hang her head. "I suppose you're
dreadfully mad at us, Reverend! Were you anxious?"

"Fortunately I didn't miss you till the school-teacher's messenger woke
us with the news that you and Channing had been found lost in the woods
somewhere. I've brought your clothes. It is a wonder you did not take
pneumonia, wandering about half-dressed!"

She winced, and put out a wheedling hand, "My wrapper is just as warm as
a dress, and--and it looks almost like one. See! it's--it's quite long,
too, Phil!--I don't think he even noticed that my stockings weren't on."

"No?" He looked at her searchingly, and his face softened. The gaze that
met his was deprecating and embarrassed, but frank as a child's.

"Still," she admitted, "it was a dreadful thing to do."

"It was a very silly thing to do, and as it turned out, very dangerous.
These mountaineers are a wild lot, especially with a little moonshine in
them. You might very well have been shot, instead of Channing."

"I wish I had been--oh, I _wish_ I had been!" Her lip quivered. "You're
so cross to me," she wailed, "and I've been through _such_ a lot!"

He relented. "I don't mean to be cross, little girl. But you must see
that I can't take the responsibility of such a madcap any longer. You
will have to go back to civilization."

Her face fell. "Oh, Phil! You don't mean that you are going to give up
the missionary expedition because of what I've done?"

"I do not," he said crisply. "I came to accomplish certain things up
here, and I shan't leave till they are done. But I shall have to manage
without my choir. You are going back to Storm, you and Mr. Channing."

"When must we go?" she asked meekly.

"To-day. At once."

"Oh, but Philip, we can't! Mr. Channing couldn't be moved so soon. His
poor leg--"

"I'm afraid he will have to risk that valuable member for the good of
the common cause. He is going to need much attention, that is plain, and
we can't impose on this school-teacher."

"Oh, _he_ won't mind!" interposed Jacqueline, eagerly. "He's as good as
a doctor, and a perfect dear."

"'Dear' or n