he concluded
lamely, then bent over her with curious gaze. "What have you been
crying about? About _me_?"

"I'm--not well. It has upset me seeing you again, and thinking of all
that has happened."

"Was it that that made you ill to start with--my going off, I mean!"

It was a curious change of feeling to have taken place in a couple of
hours, but Philippa actually found herself wishing that she could answer
in the affirmative, and casting about in her mind for some honest reply
which would yet lay some burden of responsibility upon those careless
shoulders.

"I have been laid up only a week, but I think I was run down by all the
strain and suspense. We had a terrible fortnight--"

Barney frowned and drew his hand away from the coverlet.

"So had I. I was beastly sick. It is all right, though, Phil. I've
brought home enough money to pay you back. I got some rattling good
tips. That old Johnny I told you of--"

"Oh Barney, Barney, it was not the money! I never thought of the
money," cried Phil, with such a wail of despair as brought the boy's
eyes upon her with startled questioning. The two faces confronted each
other, so like, yet so unlike, and the boy flushed darkly through his
tan.

"Well, you needn't have worried about--_that_ either. I told you I
would remember. I gave my promise, and I--kept it, Phil. There were
lots of things I wanted to do. It was awfully dull not being able to go
about with the other fellows, but I kept my word. And I wanted to spend
the money, too. There was the 'cutest little monkey you ever saw,
trained to do all sorts of tricks. It was jolly hard lines not being
able to bring it home as a present to you girls, but I thought under the
circumstances it might be bad form."

"Oh Barney, Barney!" cried Philippa, laughing uncontrollably even as the
tears rolled down her cheeks. It was such balm in Gilead to know that
the promise had been kept; it was so ridiculously, inimitably like
Barney that he should mix up monkeys with the story of his repentance.
"I'm so very, very thankful for everything," she whispered; "for the
things you didn't do, and--the monkey that didn't come. Kiss me,
Barney. I shall get well quickly now that you are back."

Barney did as he was asked, not once, but many times over, and kept his
big fingers clasped closely round hers while he asked anxiously:

"You won't want to send me back to an office, will you, Phil? The
Hermit has been telli