The doctor with his fingers on the pulse bent forward. "Again!" he
said gruffly. "Once more!"

And again the girl's voice rang through the silent room in urgent
appeal: "Francis! Francis!"

One long breath--another--and the eyes opened--vague, unseeing, turning
this way and that until they found what they sought, and in them slowly
dawned the light of recognition. A little later--low, very low--a
whisper, in which content and joy triumphed over weakness--clear enough
to the anxious listeners: "Phil! Darling!"

Two hours later Philippa went to her room. The doctor had gone, to
return at evening; the invalid was sleeping, for the moment all was as
well as could be expected, and it was considered probable that he would
sleep for some hours. Her limbs were stiff and cramped from the
position in which she had remained, fearing that the slightest movement
on her part would snap the frail thread which we call life. When it
became evident that the sleep was sound and strengthening she had crept
away.

Presently Mrs. Goodman entered, bearing a tray of food and a telegram.

"You must need food," she said. "I have brought it, and I have said
you are not to be disturbed." Her voice was strained and trembling,
but quite kindly.

Philippa opened the telegram. "Operation to-morrow--hopeful--will wire
again." For a moment she could not think what it meant, then she
remembered; but somehow it seemed trivial, of no importance. Nothing
mattered just now but the explanation which must surely come. All else
was far away, outside the radius of her mind.

The woman pressed food and wine upon her, and stood beside her as she
ate. Then she removed the tray and placed in on a table, and returned
to Philippa's side. Her face was working grievously, her limbs were
shaking. Then, quite suddenly, she sat down and burst into tears--the
slow, laboured weeping of the aged.

Philippa drew her chair closer, and laying a hand on her shoulder she
waited, knowing instinctively that the tears would bring healing, and
that the overstrained nerves must find relief before words would come.

At last she grew quieter, and said brokenly, "He knew me! You heard
him! 'Goody! Goody will understand!' I that have nursed him and
tended him from babyhood! And never to know me--never to know his old
Goody all these weary years! At last! At last! Oh! if my lady were
but here to see!"

"Will you try and realise that I know nothing?