"Well, so we are," said Bobbie. "Now let honour be satisfied on both
sides."

"I did call it Pax," said Peter, in an injured tone.

"Then let it BE Pax," said Bobbie. "Come on, Phil, let's get the tea.
Pete, you might lay the cloth."

"I say," said Phyllis, when peace was really restored, which was not
till they were washing up the cups after tea, "Dr. Forrest didn't REALLY
say we were female beasts, did he?"

"Yes," said Peter, firmly, "but I think he meant we men were wild
beasts, too."

"How funny of him!" said Phyllis, breaking a cup.

* * * * * *

"May I come in, Mother?" Peter was at the door of Mother's writing room,
where Mother sat at her table with two candles in front of her. Their
flames looked orange and violet against the clear grey blue of the sky
where already a few stars were twinkling.

"Yes, dear," said Mother, absently, "anything wrong?" She wrote a few
more words and then laid down her pen and began to fold up what she had
written. "I was just writing to Jim's grandfather. He lives near here,
you know."

"Yes, you said so at tea. That's what I want to say. Must you write to
him, Mother? Couldn't we keep Jim, and not say anything to his people
till he's well? It would be such a surprise for them."

"Well, yes," said Mother, laughing, "I think it would."

"You see," Peter went on, "of course the girls are all right and all
that--I'm not saying anything against THEM. But I should like it if I
had another chap to talk to sometimes."

"Yes," said Mother, "I know it's dull for you, dear. But I can't
help it. Next year perhaps I can send you to school--you'd like that,
wouldn't you?"

"I do miss the other chaps, rather," Peter confessed; "but if Jim could
stay after his leg was well, we could have awful larks."

"I've no doubt of it," said Mother. "Well--perhaps he could, but you
know, dear, we're not rich. I can't afford to get him everything he'll
want. And he must have a nurse."

"Can't you nurse him, Mother? You do nurse people so beautifully."

"That's a pretty compliment, Pete--but I can't do nursing and my writing
as well. That's the worst of it."

"Then you MUST send the letter to his grandfather?"

"Of course--and to his schoolmaster, too. We telegraphed to them both,
but I must write as well. They'll be most dreadfully anxious."

"I say, Mother, why can't his grandfather pay for a nurse?" Peter
suggested. "That would