, and Miss Rachel
was telling Joe to put cushions in the boat, the _Flyaway_; and
presently Phil found himself floating gently on the lovely water of the
lake, and the cottage and lawn and arbors were looking like a pretty bit
of landscape he had seen in books.

He dipped his fingers in the clear water, and looked down at the pebbly
bottom, and listened to the even dip of the oars, as old Joe rowed
farther out from shore.

"It must be fairy-land," thought Phil, but he said nothing; he was too
happy to talk. And so the day ended--the first day in the country.

CHAPTER VIII

THE NEW COMPANION

Miss Schuyler was a very active, industrious lady, and her time was
fully occupied. She had her house and grounds to attend to, her business
affairs, her domestic duties, and her poor people--for paradise or
fairy-land, whichever Phil chose to call his present abode, was not
without its poor--and so, during the day, Lisa was mostly with Phil; but
he and Miss Rachel had always a pleasant chat after breakfast; and in
the evening many a long talk made known to Miss Rachel more of Phil's
character than he had any idea of; and the more she knew of the boy, the
warmer her heart became towards him, and the more thankful she was that
she had been able to do for him just what was wanted, and just at the
right time.

Already there was a little color in his pale cheeks, and an eagerness
for his meals. He could endure more fatigue, and he suffered less pain.
Indeed, Dr. Smith, who lived half a mile off, had promised to send his
son, a lad of twelve, down to see Phil in his stead. "For," said he,
"Graham does not know one bone from another, and will soon help Phil to
forget all about his, or whether they ache or not."

And so Graham Smith, a ruddy-cheeked fellow, full of life and spirit,
came to see Phil.

It was a warm June day when they first saw each other.

Phil was sketching, and Lisa was sitting beside him sewing. Joe was
Phil's model, standing patiently by the hour to be made into studies of
heads, arms, trunk, or the whole man.

Suddenly there was a loud bark of welcome from Nep, the Newfoundland
dog--who greeted tramps with growls--and Graham Smith came up the garden
path, followed by Nep, leaping frantically upon and about him.

He nodded in a brusque way to Lisa and Phil, and without a word bent
down over the sketch, gave a long, low whistle, and said, "Isn't that
bully?"

"If I knew what bully meant, I could a