Marjorie was distant with Dona all the way to the Red Cross Hospital, but recovered her temper during the ten minutes spent with Larry. They were not allowed to stay long, as it was out of visiting hours, though Elaine had obtained special permission from the Commandant for them to call and say good-bye to him. Still laughing at his absurd jokes, they rejoined Hodson, and set off along the road over the moor. As they neared the cove they looked out anxiously to see if Eric were at the usual trysting-place, but there was no sign of him to-day. They sat down and waited, thinking that the long perambulator had probably been wheeled into Whitecliffe, and had not yet returned. In about ten minutes Lizzie came hurrying up alone. "I've run all the way!" she panted. "He got your letter, did Eric, and he was that set on coming, but he's very ill to-day and must stop in bed. He's just fretting his heart out because he can't say good-bye to you. He'll say nothing all the time but 'I want my fairy ladies--I want my fairy ladies!' His ma said she wondered if you'd mind coming in for a minute just to see him. It's not far. It would soothe him down wonderful." "Why, of course we'll go," exclaimed the girls with enthusiasm. "Poor little chap! What a shame he's ill!" "I hope it's nothing infectious?" objected Hodson, mindful of her duties. "Oh no! It's his heart," answered Lizzie. "He's got a lot of different things the matter with him, and has had ever so many doctors," she added almost proudly. She led the way briskly to the little village of Sandside. Where did Eric live, the girls were asking themselves. They had always wondered where his home could be. To their amazement Lizzie stopped at the "Royal George" inn, and motioned them to enter. Hodson demurred. She was an ardent teetotaller, and also she doubted if Mrs. Trafford would approve of her nieces visiting at a third-rate public-house. "Wait for us outside, Hodson," said Marjorie rather peremptorily. "I'll go into the post office," she agreed unwillingly. "You won't be long, will you, miss?" The passage inside the inn was dark, and the stairs were steep, and a smell of stale beer pervaded the air. It seemed a strange place for such a lovely flower as Eric to be growing. Lizzie went first to show the way. She stopped with her hand on the latch of the door. "His ma's had to go and serve in the bar," she explained, "but his aunt's just come and is sitting with him." Dona and Marjorie entered a small low bedroom, clean enough, though rather faded and shabby. In a cot bed by the window lay Eric, white as his pillow, a frail ethereal being all dark eyes and shining golden curls. He stretched out two feeble little arms in welcome. "Oh, my fairy ladies! Have you really come?" he cried eagerly.