ve anything else to do, if
you don't come like she expects you to. She hasn't got any way to _stop_
waitin'!"

At this, Ramsey moaned, without affectation. "I don't expect I _can_,
Albert," he said. "I'd like to if I could, but the way it looks now,
you tell her I wouldn't be much surprised maybe I was startin' in with
typhoid fever or pretty near anything at all. You tell her I'm pretty
near as disappointed as she's goin' to be herself, and I'd come if I
could--and I _will_ come if I get a good deal better, or anything--but
the way it's gettin' to look now, I kind o' feel as if I might be
breaking out with something any minute." He moved away, concluding,
feebly: "I guess I better crawl on home, Albert, while I'm still able
to walk some. You tell her the way it looks now I'm liable to be right
sick."

And the next morning he woke to the chafings of remorse, picturing a
Milla somewhat restored in charm waiting hopefully at the gate, even
after half-past seven, and then, as time passed and the sound of the
distant horns came faintly through the darkness, going sadly to her
room--perhaps weeping there. It was a picture to wring him with shame
and pity, but was followed by another which electrified him, for out
of school he did not lack imagination. What if Albert had reported his
illness too vividly to Milla? Milla was so fond! What if, in her alarm,
she should come here to the house to inquire of his mother about him?
What if she told Mrs. Milholland they were "engaged"? The next moment
Ramsey was projecting a conversation between his mother and Milla in
which the latter stated that she and Ramsey were soon to be married;
that she regarded him as already virtually her husband, and demanded to
nurse him.

In a panic he fled from the house before breakfast, going out by way of
a side door, and he crossed back yards and climbed back fences to reach
Albert Paxton the more swiftly. This creature, a ladies' man almost
professionally, was found exercising with an electric iron and a pair of
flannel trousers in a basement laundry, by way of stirring his appetite
for the morning meal.

"See here, Albert," his friend said breathlessly. "I got a favour. I
want you to go over to Milla's--"

"I'm goin' to finish pressin' these trousers," Albert interrupted. "Then
I've got my breakfast to eat."

"Well, you could do this first," said Ramsey, hurriedly. "It wouldn't
hurt you to do me this little favour first. You just slip over