o--please." She had forced him back gently. "I shall not have to write
the letter now. Tell me about him." Her face was alight.

Uncle William considered. "The' ain't much to tell, I guess. He's
gettin' better. He's actin' the way men gen'ally do."

"Yes--?" Her voice sang a little. "And he wants to see me?"

"Wust way," said Uncle William; "but he ain't goin' to. What was you
copyin' when I come in?"

"Some music--for one of the big houses. It helps out."

Uncle William was looking at her thoughtfully. "He'd better give up
his place when we go," he said. "He'll, like enough, stay with me all
summer."

"His rooms, you mean?" She mused a little. "Yes, perhaps--"

"They must cost a good deal," said Uncle William.

"They do." She paused a minute. "He is almost sure to take a prize," she
said. "It's the best work he has done."

"That'll be good," said Uncle William. "But we won't count too much on
it. He won't need money in Arichat. A little goes a long ways up there.
Good night." He was holding out his hand.

She placed hers in it slowly. Uncle William lifted the slim fingers.
He patted them benignly. "They don't look good for much, but they're
pretty," he said.

She laughed out quietly. "They have to be," she said. "They're my tools.
I _have_ to be careful of them. That is one of the things we quarreled
about--Alan and I. He knew I ought not to use them and he wouldn't
let me do things for him, and he wouldn't have a nurse, nor go to the
hospital." She sighed a little. "He was very obstinate."

"Just like a mule," assented Uncle William. He was stroking the fingers
gently. "But he's got a new driver this time." He chuckled a little.

She looked up quickly. "Has he consented to go?"

"Well, we're goin'.--It comes to the same thing I reckon," said Uncle
William. He was looking at the dark face with the darker lines beneath
the eyes. "You'll hev an easier time," he said. "It's been putty hard on
you."

"Oh, I don't mind," quickly, "--only the misunderstandings--and the
quarrels--"

"That was the fever," said Uncle William.

"But _I_ didn't have the fever," said the girl. "I might have been
patient."

"Well, I reckon the Angil Gabriel himself'd quarrel with a man that
had one of them intermittent fevers," said the old man thoughtfully.
"They're powerful trying'. You feel better--a little--and you perk up
and think you're goin' to get well, and then, fust thing you know, there
you are--all to do over aga