was as mad as a wet hen."

"A wet hen--delightful! Did he do it?"

"Guess you don't know him! When Master John wants anything, well, he's a
terrible wanter--always was that way even when he was a boy--when he
wants anything, he gets it."

"Indeed! does he? I think he is waiting for you, Josiah."

The black's conclusive summary hardened the young woman's heart. She sat
a while smiling, then took up a book and failed to become interested.

As John became familiar with the altered life of a household once happy
and in pleasant relation to the outer world, he felt as Leila had done
the depressing influence of a home in which the caprices of an invalid
life were constantly to be considered. Meanwhile his own spare figure
gained flesh, and on one sunny morning--he long remembered it--he was
rather suddenly free from pain, and with only the stiff elbow was, as
McGregor described it, "discharged cured."

For some time he had been feeling that in bodily vigour and sense of
being his normal self he had been rapidly gaining ground. The relief from
the thraldom of pain brought a sudden uplift of spirits and a feeling of
having been born anew into an inheritance of renewed strength and of
senses sharpened beyond what he had ever known. A certain activity of
happiness like a bodily springtime comes with such a convalescence.
Ceasing to feel the despotism of self-attention, he began to recover his
natural good sense and to watch with more care his uncle's state, his
aunt's want of consideration for any one but James Penhallow, and the
effect upon Leila of this abnormal existence. He began to understand that
to surely win this sad girl-heart there must be a patient siege, and
above all something done for the master of Grey Pine. He recognized with
love's impatience the beauty of this young life amid the difficulties of
the Colonel's moods and Ann Penhallow's ill-concealed jealousy. A great
passion may be a very selfish thing, or in the nobler natures rise so
high on the wings of love that it casts like the singing lark no shadow
on the earth. He could wait and respect with patient affection the sense
of duty which perhaps--ah! that perhaps--made love a thing which must
wait--yes, and wait too with helpful service where she too had nobly
served.

When the day came for his first venture on a horse and he rode through
the young leafage of June, no enterprise seemed impossible. How could he
be of use to her and these dear people to