anguidly as he put his
head in a convenient place for the purpose. "Mother bought him, she
said, because he would look so picturesque in my sick-room. She wanted
him to lie at my feet or something. But he never saw it that
way--neither did I. Hates sick-rooms. Don't blame him."

This was the longest speech Allan had made yet, and Phyllis learned
several things from it that she had only guessed before. One was that
the atmosphere of embodied grief and regret in the house had been Mrs.
Harrington's, not Allan's--that he was more young and natural than she
had thought, better material for cheering; that his mother's devotion
had been something of a pressure on him at times; and that he himself
was not interested in efforts to stage his illness correctly.

What he really had said when the dog was introduced, she learned later
from the attached Wallis, was that he might be a cripple, but he wasn't
going to be part of any confounded tableau. Whereupon his mother had
cried for an hour, kissing and pitying him in between, and his night
had been worse than usual. But the hound had stayed outside.

Phyllis made an instant addition to her list. "One bull-pup, convenient
size, for Allan." The plain cat could wait. She had heard of publicity
campaigns; she had made up her mind, and a rather firm young mind it
was, that she was going to conduct a cheerfulness campaign in behalf of
this listless, beautiful, darkness-locked Allan of hers. Unknowingly,
she was beginning to regard him as much her property as the check-book,
and rather more so than the wolfhound. She moved back a little, and
reconciled herself to the dog, who had draped as much of his body as
would go, over her, and was batting his tail against her joyfully.

"Poor old puppy," she said. "I want to talk over some plans with you,
Allan," she began again determinedly. She was astonished to see Allan
wince.

"_Don't!_" he said, "for heaven's sake! You'll drive me crazy!"

Phyllis drew back a little indignantly, but behind the couch she saw
Wallis making some sort of face that was evidently intended for a
warning. Then he slipped out of the room, as if he wished her to follow
soon and be explained to. "Plans" must be a forbidden subject. Anyhow,
crossness was a better symptom than apathy!

"Very well," she said brightly, smiling her old, useful,
cheering-a-bad-child library smile at him. "It was mostly about things I
wanted to buy for myself, any way--satin slippers and