mber when you and I
used to run hand in hand from the top to the bottom of Breakneck Hill?
Oh, Philip, I do wish we could never quarrel any more! I think we
might keep our tempers if we tried."

"_You_ might," said Philip, "because you are good. But I shall always
be a brute."

(Just what _I_ said to Aunt Isobel! Must every one learn his own
lessons for himself? I had a sort of unreasonable feeling that my
experience ought to serve for the rest of our ill-tempered family into
the bargain.)

Philip's spirits rose higher and higher. Of course he was delighted to
be out of the scrape. I am sure he was glad to be friendly again, and
he was hotter than ever for the theatricals.

So was I. I felt certain that they would be successful now. But far
above and beyond the comfort of things "coming right," and the
pleasure of anticipated fun, my heart was rocked to a higher peace. In
my small religious experiences I had never known this triumph, this
thankfulness before. Circumstances, not self-control, had helped me
out of previous quarrels; I had never really done battle, and gained a
conquest over my besetting sin. Now, however imperfectly and
awkwardly, I yet _had_ fought. If Philip had been less generous I
might have failed, but the effort had been real--and it had been
successful. Henceforth my soul should fight with the prestige of
victory, with the courage that comes of having striven and won,
trusted and not been confounded.

The first person we met after we got in was Aunt Isobel. She had
arrived in our absence. No doubt she had heard the whole affair, but
she is very good, and never _gauche_ and she only said--

"Here come the stage-managers! Now what can I do to help? I have had
some tea, and am ready to obey orders till the curtain rings up."

Boys do not carry things off well. Philip got very red, but I
said--"Oh, please come to the nursery, Aunt Isobel. There are lots of
things to do." She came, and was invaluable. I never said anything
about the row to her, and she never said anything to me. That is what
I call a friend!

The first thing Philip did was to unlock the property-box in his room
and bring the Dragon and things back. The second thing he did was to
mend the new scene by replacing the bit he had cut out, glueing canvas
on behind it, and touching up with paint where it joined.

We soon put straight what had been disarranged. Blinds were drawn,
candles lighted, seats fixed, and the theatre began t