f furniture, she telephoned to the village for the regular delivery of
four daily papers, and a half-dozen of the most masculine magazines she
could think of on the library lists. She had never known of Allan's
doing any reading. That he had cared for books before the accident, she
knew. At any rate, she was resolved to leave no point uncovered that
might, just possibly _might_, help her Allan just a little way to
interest in life, which she felt to be the way to recovery. He liked
being told stories to, any way.

"Do you think Mr. Allan will feel like coming into the living-room
to-day?" she asked Wallis, meeting him in the hall about two o'clock.

"Why, he's dressed, ma'am," was Wallis's astonishing reply, "and him and
the pup is having a fine game of play. He's got more use of that hand
an' arm, ma'am, than we thought."

"Do you think he'd care to be wheeled into the living-room about four?"
asked Phyllis.

"For tea, ma'am?" inquired Wallis, beaming. "I should think so, ma'am.
I'll ask, anyhow."

Phyllis had not thought of tea--one does not stop for such leisurely
amenities in a busy public library--but she saw the beauty of the idea,
and saw to it that the tea was there. Lily-Anna was a jewel. She built
the fire up to a bright flame, and brought in some daffodils from the
garden without a word from her mistress. Phyllis herself saw that the
victrola was in readiness, and cleared a space for the couch near the
fire. There was quite a festal feeling.

The talking-machine was also a surprise for Allan. Phyllis thought
afterward that she should have saved it for another day, but the
temptation to grace the occasion with it was too strong. She and Allan
were as excited over it as a couple of children, and the only drawback
to Allan's enjoyment was that he obviously wanted to take the records
out of her unaccustomed fingers and adjust them himself. He knew how, it
appeared, and Phyllis naturally didn't. However, she managed to follow
his directions successfully. She had bought recklessly of rag-time
discs, and provided a fair amount of opera selections. Allan seemed
equally happy over both. After the thing had been playing for
three-quarters of an hour, and most of the records were exhausted,
Phyllis rang for tea. It was getting a little darker now, and the
wood-fire cast fantastic red and black lights and shadows over the room.
It was very intimate and thrilling to Phyllis suddenly, the fire-lit
room, with just th