Because the doctor said that about keeping Fee quiet, no one but Phil or nurse was allowed in his room all day. But late in the afternoon nurse let me take something up to him,--she had to see to the children's dinner, or something or other downstairs; she said if Phil were with him I wasn't to stay.

I knocked, but not very hard,--my hands were pretty full; and then, as n.o.body answered, I opened the door softly, and went in. Fee was lying sort of hunched up among the pillows, which weren't any whiter than his face. Oh! _didn't_ he look delicate!

He had on his gla.s.ses again, and now his eyes were shining through them, and there was a very sweet expression on his lips. Phil was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking in a low, unsteady voice: "I didn't really care for them," he was saying, "and there were times when I fairly loathed them; but somehow they got round me, and--I began to go there regularly. They drank and gambled; they said all young fellows did it, and they laughed at me when I objected. I held out for a good while,--then one night I gave in. I was a fool; I dreaded their ridicule. There were times, though, when I was _disgusted_ with myself.

Then I began to win at cards, and--well--I thought I'd save the money for a purpose; though in my heart I knew full well that--the--the--the person I was saving for wouldn't touch a penny got that way. Well, then something happened that made that money I was saving quite unnecessary, and then I just played to lose. I wanted those fellows to have their money back; after that I thought I'd cut loose from 'em. That was the reason I wanted to go back to Chad's that night,--was it _only_ last night? It seems like _years_ ago!"

Phil dropped his face down in his hands for a minute; then he went on: "I started out this morning and gave each of the fellows his money back.

They didn't want to take it,--they think me a crazy loon; but I insisted. I've got beyond caring for their opinion. And now, Fee, the rest of my life belongs to you; you've paid an awful price for it, old fellow,--I'm not worth it. Think of your college course--your profession--all the things we planned! I'm not worth it!"

Phil's voice failed, but he cleared his throat quickly, and spoke out clearly and solemnly. "Felix," he said, "I will _never_ play cards again as long as I live; and I will _never_ drink another drop of liquor,--so help me G.o.d." He raised his hand as he spoke, as if registering the oath. Then he bent over and buried his face in the bed-clothes.

Slowly Fee's poor helpless hand went out and fell on Phil's head. "What is all the rest compared with _this_," he said, oh, so tenderly! then, with a little unsteady laugh, "Philippus, I always said there wasn't a mean bone in your body." And then Phil threw his arms round Felix and kissed him.

I laid what I had brought down on the table, and went quickly away, shutting the door a little hard that they might know somebody'd gone out. I should have left just as soon as I found they were talking,--I know I should,--but it seemed as if Phil's words just held me there.

I've told Phil and Felix all about it since then, and they say they don't mind my having heard; but between what I felt for them both, and for my having done such a mean thing as to listen to what wasn't meant for me to hear, I was a pretty miserable boy that afternoon.

I flew upstairs to the schoolroom, and throwing myself down on the old sofa I just had a good cry. It seems as if I were an awful cry-baby those days; but how could a person help it, with such dreadful things happening?

Well, I hadn't been there very long when in came Nora and opened the windows to let in the lovely afternoon light, and of course then I got up.

I guess I must have been a forlorn-looking object, for Nora smoothed my hair back off my forehead and kissed me,--she doesn't often do those things. "I'm going to write to Nannie," she said, laying some note-paper on the schoolroom table. "It is the first minute I've had in which to do it; perhaps,"--slowly,--"if she had been here, all this trouble might not have happened. Why don't you send Betty a few lines, Jack? You know she will want to hear of Fee; but don't frighten her about him."

So I thought I would write Betty,--I owed her a letter. After all, she wasn't having at all a bad time with the Ervengs; in fact, I fancy she was enjoying herself, though she was careful not to say so.

Nora and I were sitting at the same table, but far apart, and I'd just called out and asked her if there were two l's in wonderful--I was writing about Fee--when the schoolroom door opened, and in walked Chad Whitcombe! As usual, he looked a regular dandy, and he held a bunch of roses in his hand. He came forward with his hand out and smiling: "I've--aw--just called in for a minute," he said. "I thought--aw--you might care for these flowers--"

But Nora rose quickly from her chair, pushing it a little from her, and putting her hands behind her back, she faced him with her head up in the air. My! how handsome she looked,--like a queen, or something grand like that! "I thank you for your polite intention," she said very stiffly and proudly, "but hereafter I prefer to have neither flowers nor visits from you."

Well, you should have seen Chad's face! he'd been stroking his moustache, but now, positively, he stood staring at Nora with his mouth open, he was so astonished. "Wha--what's wrong?" he stammered. "What've I done?"

Then Nora gave it to him; she didn't mince matters,--truly, she made me think of Betty. "What have you done?" she repeated, opening her grey eyes at him. "Oh! only acted as I have never known any one calling himself a gentleman to act. Mr. Whitcombe,"--with a toss of her head equal to anything Betty could have done,--"I will _not_ have the acquaintance of a man who drinks and gambles."

Then _I_ was the one to be astonished; I didn't dream Nora knew anything about that part. Phil must have told her that day.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'HEREAFTER I PREFER TO HAVE NEITHER FLOWERS NOR VISITS FROM YOU.'"]

"And who not only does those dreadful things himself," went on Nora, "but inveigles others into doing them, too. The idea of coming here among us as a friend, and then leading Phil off,--trying to ruin his life!" Nonie's cheeks were scarlet; she was getting madder and madder with every word she said.

"Why, that isn't gambling; we just play for small amounts," exclaimed Chad, eagerly, forgetting his affectation, and speaking just like anybody. "All the fellows do it; why, I've played cards and drunk liquor since I was twelve years old. It hasn't hurt me."

"No?" said Nora, coldly. "We don't agree on that point;" then, curling her lip in a disgusted way: "What an unfortunate, neglected little boy you must have been. If Jack should do either of those low, wicked things, I should consider a sound thrashing entirely too mild treatment for him. And allow me to tell you that _all_ the young fellows we know are _not_ after your kind: they neither drink, nor play cards; and yet, strange to say,--that is, from your point of view,--they are extremely manly."

"I'm sorry, you know; but I didn't suppose you'd mind--so much," Chad began, in the meekest sort of tone. "You always seemed to understand lots of things that the others didn't, and--"

But Nora interrupted: "I made allowances for you," she said, with her little superior air, "knowing that you had lost your parents as a little boy, and that you had had so little--now I will say _no_--home training. Besides, I thought, perhaps"--she hesitated, then went on--"that perhaps the others were a little hard on you; it seemed rather unjust, simply because you were--well--different from ourselves.

But I didn't imagine for one moment that you were this sort of a person. It isn't honourable to do those things,--don't you know that?

It is low and wicked."

"I only wanted Phil to have a good time; I never thought he was such a baby he'd get any harm," exclaimed Chad, a little sulkily, getting awfully red, even to his ears. "And as to Felix, he came of his own free will. It's he that has told you all this, and set you up against me.

Felix doesn't like me, and he hasn't taken any pains to hide it. I don't see why he came up there last night, if he thinks we're so wicked."

"I will tell you why," cried Nora; "he came in the hope that seeing _him_ there would shame Phil, and induce him to get out of such a set.

And it _has_ gotten him out,--though not in the way that Fee expected.

When I think of all that has happened since you and Phil went out together last evening,--of all the trouble you have brought on us,--I really wish you would go away; I prefer to have nothing more to say to you."

She made a motion of her hand as if dismissing him, but Chad never moved. He just stood there, holding the roses upside down, and looking very gloomy. "You're _awfully_ down on me," he said presently; then, "and A'm awfully sorry. Ah wish you'd forgive me!" in _such_ a beseeching sort of tone that I could have laughed right out.

But Nonie didn't laugh, or even smile; she just answered, a little more kindly than before: "It's not a question of _my_ forgiving you that will set the matter right; the thing is to give up that way of living.

Surely there are plenty of other ways of amusing yourself,--nice honourable ways that belong to a gentleman. Then--people--would be able to respect as well as like you. I wonder that Max has let this sort of thing go on."

"Oh, he doesn't know," Chad said, with a quick glance over his shoulder at the door, as if he thought Max might be there, ready to walk in on him.

"_Tell_ him," advised Nora,--she just loves to advise people,--"and get him to help you. You could study for college, or--go into business, if you preferred that."

Chad was looking intently at her; suddenly he threw the roses on the schoolroom table,--with such force that they slid across and fell on the floor on the other side,--and made a step or two toward Nora, with his hands extended, exclaiming eagerly, "Oh, Nora, if I thought that _you_ cared--"

But like a flash Nora got behind her chair, putting it between herself and Chad. "Don't say _another_ word!" she broke in imperiously, standing very straight, and looking proudly at him over the back of the chair.

"Jack, pick up those flowers and return them to Mr. Whitcombe, and then open the door for him."

Chad was so startled that he jumped,--you see he hadn't noticed that I was there,--and didn't he look foolish! and _blush_! why, his face actually got mahogany colour. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the poor roses from me and just bolted through that schoolroom door.

Well, I had to laugh; and when I turned back into the room, after seeing him to the head of the stairs, I said, "I'm just _glad_ you gave it to him, Nonie!"

"There is nothing for you to laugh at, Jack," Nora said sharply, turning on me. "Remember you are only a little boy, and this is none of your affair." With that she picked up her writing materials and walked off.

Aren't girls the _funniest_!

XXI.

THROUGH THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND.

TOLD BY JACK.

The man to ma.s.sage Felix came the next day; but, except for the time he was there, Phil took entire charge of Fee. He had always declared he wasn't of any use in a sick-room, but now he seemed to get on very well; you can't think how kind and gentle he was!

For one thing, Fee wasn't hard to suit, and that helped things a great deal. If Phil made a mistake, or did something awkwardly, Fee just turned it off in a joking way. He was very white and languid, but not at all sad; in fact, he kept our spirits up with his funny sayings. We all thought it was amazing; nurse said he was "a born angel," and now and then I saw Phil look wistfully at Fee, as if wondering how he _could_ be so brave. And Felix, when he caught Phil's eye, would give a roguish little smile, and say something so merry that we had to laugh.

The only part that troubled me was that Phil stuck so closely to Fee that n.o.body else got a chance to do anything for him. I just longed to go in and sit with Fee a while, but the doctor didn't want more than one to be with him at a time; and what with Nora, and nurse, and Phil, I didn't get any chance at all until about the third day that Fee'd been ill. A telegram came that morning from Miss Marston, saying she was on the way home, and would arrive early in the afternoon, and that we would start for the Cottage the next day,--she didn't know about Fee; we'd been so upset that n.o.body had thought of writing her.

Well, that threw Nora into what Phil calls "a state of mind," and she and nurse began getting things together and packing 'em.

I just hate packing times; you have to keep running up and down stairs carrying things, and all that, and you don't have a minute to yourself for reading. But of course I had to help, and I was busy in the nursery handing things to nurse off a shelf, when Phil came to the door with his hat on. He looked brighter than he had for some time. "Jack," he said, "will you sit with Felix for a while? I have to go out; but I'll be back as soon as I can."

Of course I was only too glad, and I went right to Fee's room. He looked tired, and those circles under his eyes were very big and dark; but he smiled at me, and chatted for a few minutes. Then presently, after Phil'd gone, he said: "Would you mind taking a seat over there in the window, Jack? I want to do a little quiet thinking. There's a nice book on the table; take it. Phil said he wouldn't be away long."