oo precious to waste them
in trying to find her. She had another search to make, and she must set
out at once. No, not quite at once. She clasped her hands to her beating
little heart as an idea came to her on which she might act. A delicious
and yet most sorrowful idea, which would fill her with the keenest pain,
and yet give her the very sweetest consolation. She would go and get a
kiss from her father before she set out on the search, which might be a
failure. Very swiftly she turned, flew down the long gallery which led
to Dr. Maybright's room, and went in.

Dr. Strong had paid his visit and gone away. Firefly's heart gave a
bound of delight, for her father was alone. He was lying supported high
in bed with pillows. His almost sightless eyes were not bandaged, they
were simply closed; his hands, with their long, sensitive, purposeful
fingers lay on the white sheets in a restful attitude. Already the acute
hearing of the blind had come to him, and as Firefly glided up to the
bedside, he turned his head quickly. Her two small hands went with a
kind of bound into one of his. His fingers closed over them.

"This is my Fly," said the Doctor; "a very excited and feverish Fly,
too. How these small fingers flutter! What is it, my darling?"

"A kiss, father," said Fly, "a great _hug_ of a kiss! please, please. I
want it so awfully badly."

"Climb up on the bed, and put your arms round me. Is that all right? My
dear little one, you are not well."

"I'm quite well, now, while I'm loving you. Oh! aren't you just the
darlingest of all darling fathers? There, another kiss; and another! Now
I'm better."

She glided off the bed, pressed two long, last fervent embraces on the
Doctor's white hand, and rushed out of the room.

"I'm lots stronger now," she said to herself. "_Whatever_ happens, I'll
have those kisses to hold on to and remember; but nothing shall happen,
for I'm going to find David; he is sure to put things right for me."

Meanwhile, Polly's absence from her room was accounted for, also the
fact of Fly finding her father alone. It was seldom that this dearly
loved and favorite father, physician, and friend, was left to indulge in
solitude. It was the privilege of all privileges to sit by him, read to
him, and listen to his talk; and a girl, generally two girls, occupied
the coveted chairs by his bedside. On this morning, however, poor Helen
was detained, first by Aunt Maria, and then by necessary housekeeping
ca