asleep."

"I can't believe it," she answered, with quivering lips. Then she threw
her arms around Doctor Allan's neck and kissed him with the sweet
impulsiveness of a child.

"Thank you," he said, softly. "Now we'll walk."

[Sidenote: Walking Again]

He put his arm around her and Barbara took a few stumbling steps. Aunt
Miriam opened the door and came in.

"Look," cried Barbara. "I'm walking."

"So I see," replied Miriam. "I heard the noise and came up to see what
was the matter. I thought perhaps you wanted something." She retreated
as swiftly as she had come. Allan stared after her and seemed to be on
the verge of saying something very much to the point, but fortunately
held his peace.

"You'll have to learn," he said, to Barbara, with a new gentleness in
his tone. "Your balance is entirely different and these muscles and
joints will have to learn to work. Keep up the exercise and the massage.
You can have a cane, if you like, but no crutches. Is there someone who
would help you for an hour or so every day?"

"Roger would," she said, "or Aunt Miriam."

"Better get Roger--he'll be stronger. And also more willing," he
thought, but he did not say so. "Don't tire yourself, but walk a little
every day, as you feel like it."

When he went, he took the crutches with him. "You might be tempted," he
explained, "if they were here, and your father's cane is all you really
need. Be a good girl and I'll come up again soon."

* * * * *

[Sidenote: A Great Success]

Eloise was watching from the piazza of the hotel, and, when he came in
sight, she went up the road to meet him.

"Oh, Allan," she cried, breathlessly, as she saw the crutches. "Is
she----?"

"She's all right. It's one of the most successful operations ever done
in that line, even if I do say it as shouldn't."

"Of course," smiled Eloise, looking up at him fondly. "I know _that_."

They walked together down to the shore, followed by the deep and open
interest of the rocking-chair brigade, marshalled twenty strong, on the
hotel veranda. It was October and the children had all been taken back
to school. The exquisite peace of the place was a thing to dream about
and be spoken of only in reverent whispers.

The tide was going out. Allan hurled one of the crutches far out to sea.
"They've worked faithfully and long," he said, "and they deserve a
little jaunt to Europe. Here goes."

He was about to throw the other, but El