he arrived, a white shaken boy lying on his
bed, sulky and still so hysterical that he was ready to break into fresh
sobbing at the least word. In fact, Dr. Craven dreaded and detested the
difficulties of these visits. On this occasion he was away from
Misselthwaite Manor until afternoon.

"How is he?" he asked Mrs. Medlock rather irritably when he arrived. "He
will break a blood-vessel in one of those fits some day. The boy is half
insane with hysteria and self-indulgence."

"Well, sir," answered Mrs. Medlock, "you'll scarcely believe your eyes
when you see him. That plain sour-faced child that's almost as bad as
himself has just bewitched him. How she's done it there's no telling.
The Lord knows she's nothing to look at and you scarcely ever hear her
speak, but she did what none of us dare do. She just flew at him like a
little cat last night, and stamped her feet and ordered him to stop
screaming, and somehow she startled him so that he actually did stop,
and this afternoon--well just come up and see, sir. It's past
crediting."

The scene which Dr. Craven beheld when he entered his patient's room was
indeed rather astonishing to him. As Mrs. Medlock opened the door he
heard laughing and chattering. Colin was on his sofa in his
dressing-gown and he was sitting up quite straight looking at a picture
in one of the garden books and talking to the plain child who at that
moment could scarcely be called plain at all because her face was so
glowing with enjoyment.

"Those long spires of blue ones--we'll have a lot of those," Colin was
announcing. "They're called Del-phin-iums."

"Dickon says they're larkspurs made big and grand," cried Mistress Mary.
"There are clumps there already."

Then they saw Dr. Craven and stopped. Mary became quite still and Colin
looked fretful.

"I am sorry to hear you were ill last night, my boy," Dr. Craven said a
trifle nervously. He was rather a nervous man.

"I'm better now--much better," Colin answered, rather like a Rajah.
"I'm going out in my chair in a day or two if it is fine. I want some
fresh air."

Dr. Craven sat down by him and felt his pulse and looked at him
curiously.

"It must be a very fine day," he said, "and you must be very careful not
to tire yourself."

"Fresh air won't tire me," said the young Rajah.

As there had been occasions when this same young gentleman had shrieked
aloud with rage and had insisted that fresh air would give him cold and
kill him, it