nything wonderful to
tell, or that I'm in any scrape, you know, but I'd like to feel I've got
my sister and that she cares--just as much as ever." He twisted his head
about till he could look up into the warm, sweet face above him. "_Does_
she care as much as ever?"

It was an unusual demonstration from the big boy, now at the age when
sisterly companionship is often despised, and Charlotte appreciated it.
More than Justin Birch could understand was in her voice as her fingers
rested upon his hair, but what she said gave him great satisfaction,
although it was only a blithe:

"Just as much--and a little more, dear. Tell me the whole story. There's
nothing I'd like so much to hear."

* * * * *

CHAPTER V

"Evelyn! Miss Evelyn Lee! Where are you?"

Jeff's shout rang up the stairs, and in obedience to its imperative
summons Evelyn immediately appeared at the head.

"Yes, Mr. Jefferson Birch," she responded. "Is the house on fire?"

"Not a bit, but I'm anxious for your hearing. I've been roaring gently
all over the house without a result, except to scare three patients in
Andy's office. Won't you come down?"

She descended slowly, but she neither clung to the rail nor sat down to
rest half-way, as she had done when she first came under the Churchill
roof.

Her face was acquiring the soft bloom of a flower, her eyes were full of
light and interest. She still looked slim and frail, but she was
beginning to show signs of waxing health very pleasant to see for those
who had grown as interested in her as if she were a young sister of
their own.

"I've an invitation for you from Carolyn Houghton for an impromptu
sleigh-ride to-night. Don't you suppose you can go? I'll take all sorts
of care of you and see that you don't get too tired. You've met Carolyn;
she's a jolly girl to know, and she told me to bring you if possible."

Evelyn dropped into a chair. "Oh, how I should love to go!" she said. "I
never went on a sleigh-ride like that in my life. Do you go all together
in a big load?"

"Yes--a regular prairie-schooner of a sleigh. Holds a dozen of us,
packed like sardines, so nobody can get cold. We take hot soapstones and
rugs and robes, and we go only twelve miles, to a farmhouse where we get
a hot supper--oysters and hot biscuit and maple-syrup, and all sorts of
good things. You must go."

"If I only could!" sighed Evelyn. "I'm so afraid they won't think I
can."

"They