ee how happy he has made me!"

The grateful thought of him found expression a dozen times during the
course of the drive. When they stopped for dinner at the quaint wayside
inn she wished audibly that he were there. Somehow, into the keen
enjoyment of the day crept a wistful longing to see him again, and the
ache that caught her throat now and then was almost a homesick pang.
Going back, as they sped along in the darkness towards the twinkling
lights of the vast city, she decided that she would write to him that
very night, before she went to sleep, and make it clear to him how much
she appreciated all he had done for her. He was the best brother in the
world, and the very dearest.

Phil went up with them when they reached the entrance to the flats. He
could not stay long, he said, but he must see the contents of that
bandbox. The air of the studio was heavy with the fragrance of the
Easter lilies, and he went about opening windows at Joyce's direction,
while she and the other girls unwound themselves from the veils in which
they had been wrapped, and put a few smoothing touches to their
wind-blown hair. Joyce was the first to come back to the studio. She
carried a letter which she had picked up in the hall.

"This seems to be a day for letters," she remarked. "This is a good
thick one from home." She made no movement to open it then, thinking to
read it aloud after Phil had taken his leave. But when Mary joined them,
and he seemed absorbed in the highly diverting process they made of
trying on the new hat, she opened the envelope to glance over the first
few pages. She read the first paragraph with one ear directed to the
amusing repartee. Then the smile suddenly left her face, and with a
startled exclamation she turned back to re-read it, hurrying on to the
bottom of the page.

"Oh, what is it?" cried Mary in alarm. Joyce had looked up with a groan,
her face white and shocked. She was trembling so that the letter shook
perceptibly in her hand.

"There has been an accident out at the mines," she answered, trying to
steady her voice, "and Jack was badly hurt. So very badly that mamma
didn't telegraph us, but waited to see how it would terminate. Oh, he's
better," she hurried to add, seeing Mary grow faint and white, and sit
down weakly on the floor beside the bandbox. "He is going to live, the
doctors say, but they're afraid--" Her voice faltered and she began to
sob. "They're afraid he'll be a cripple for life! Ne