ida?" said her mother.

"To Siam. I'd like to see the things and the people I saw when I was a
child, when papa was with us and when it was easy to believe that
everything that happened was for the best. It would be about as easy for
us to go to Siam as anywhere else, for we haven't the money to spare to
go anywhere. I sit and dream of the old house, and the yellow people,
and the pleasure of being a child, and the comfort of believing. I am
tired to death of this great, thinking, pushing, western world, with its
restlessness and its unbelief. If I were in the East I could believe and
hope, and not worry about what Philip calls 'the immensities.'"

XXXVIII.

PHILIP'S CONFESSION.

It was evident that something must be done speedily to save Phillida
from a decline that might end in death, or from that chronic invalidism
which is almost worse. All sort of places were thought of, but the
destination was at last narrowed down to the vicinity of Hampton Roads,
as the utmost limit that any prudent expenditure would allow the
Callenders to venture upon. Even this would cost what ordinary caution
forbade them to spend, and Phillida held out stoutly against any trip
until the solicitude of her mother and sister bore down all objections.

Not long after Dr. Gunstone's visit, Mrs. Callender received a letter
from Mrs. Hilbrough expressing anxiety regarding Phillida, and
regretting that her husband's horror of diphtheria still prevented her
from calling. She continued:

"I very much wish to do something by which I can show my love for
Phillida. Won't you let me bear the expense of a trip southward, if you
think that will do good? If you feel delicate about it, consider it a
loan to be paid whenever it shall be convenient, but it would give me
great happiness if I might be allowed to do this little act of
affection."

Mrs. Callender showed the note to Phillida. "It would save our selling
the bonds," she said, "but I do not like to go in debt, and of course we
would repay it by degrees."

"It is a trifle to her," said Phillida, "and I think we might accept two
hundred dollars or more as a loan to be repaid."

"Well, if you think so, Phillida, but I do hate to be in debt."

Phillida sat thinking for a minute. Then her pale face colored.

"Did the letter come by mail?" she asked.

Mrs. Callender examined the envelope. "I thought it came from the
postman, but there is no postmark; Sarah brought it to me."

"Suppos