uation.

"Uncle Archie's going to get well," he remarked to Billy. "Now he can
bring me nonner engine."

For two days, the McAlister household felt that it was living in an
atmosphere of perpetual sunshine. Then the clouds fell again. It was one
Saturday morning. Theodora was at her desk, straightening out the
account of Mr. Huntington's weekly sales, Hubert was playing football,
and Hope had gone to market, taking Allyn with her. Out on the lawn west
of the house, Phebe and Isabel St. John were playing tennis and
wrangling loudly over the score. Left to himself in the house, Billy
threw aside his book, took up his crutches, and went away to the barn,
where Dr. McAlister had given up an old harness closet for his use in
developing his pictures. It opened out of the barn not far from the
stalls where Vigil and Prince were kept; but it was easily accessible
and sufficiently roomy, and Billy had accepted the doctor's offer
eagerly.

Once shut up in the dark in company with his ruby lantern, Billy fell to
work on a picture of Allyn, taken only the day before. So absorbed was
he that it was only vaguely that he heard the voices of Phebe and Isabel
in the barn close at hand. The murmur went on for some moments, broken
by girlish gigglings and little squeals of merriment. Suddenly there
came another squeal, louder, this time, and more earnest; there was an
interchange of swift, low words, and then silence fell, and Billy
dismissed the incident from his mind.

The picture proved refractory and refused to come out. Then at length
Billy gave it up in despair, threw away the developing fluid, cast the
plate into a pile of similar failures, took up his crutches, and started
for the house again. On the way, he met Phebe and Isabel. They looked at
him furtively as he passed.

"What's up, Phebe?" he asked.

"Nothing. I only thought you looked tired," she replied, with unusual
thoughtfulness.

"So I am, of doing nothing. Come in and play casino with me."

"Can't," Phebe said hastily. "We'd like to, Billy; but there's something
else we've got to do."

"All right." And he passed on.

They were all seated at the dinner-table, that noon, when the doctor
came into the room. His face was white and very stern.

"Vigil is dead," he said abruptly. "Do any of you children know anything
about it?"

"I don't," said the twins, in a breath, and Hope echoed them; but Phebe
started and cast a swift glance at Billy.

"Do you, Billy?"