Sally's chin quivered more and more, and her tears overflowed. "Oh, Fox," she wailed, "I don't want to. I don't want to leave mother and home and--and everybody." Fox drew her toward him and patted her shoulder. "There, there, Sally," he said gently. "You shan't go if you don't want to. We'll manage somehow. Don't feel so badly, Sally. Don't." Sally's fit of crying was already over. Her tears ceased and she felt for her handkerchief. "I won't," she said, with a pitiful little attempt at a smile. "I'm not going to cry any more. Have--have you got a handkerchief, Fox?" Fox wiped her eyes. "We'll call a council of war," he said; "you and Doctor Galen and I will talk it over and decide what shall be done. Not about Martha," he added hastily. "That's settled, Sally, if you don't want to go. I'll write to her and tell her that you can't come." "No," Sally protested earnestly, "it's not settled; at least, not that way. I'll go if--if that's the best thing for us. I was only crying because--because I hate to think of leaving. I can't help that, you know, Fox." "I know, Sally. I've been through it all." "And so our council of war," Sally continued, "will decide about that, too." The council of war held a long and earnest session and eventually decided that it was best for Sally to accept Miss Hazen's offer and to go to Whitby. Sally acquiesced in the decision, but it seemed to Fox necessary to do a little explaining. "You know, Sally," he said, "your mother is likely to be a long time in getting back her health. She won't be herself for a number of years. It would only be painful to you--" "I know all that, Fox," Sally interrupted, a little impatiently. She had had it pretty thoroughly drummed into her. "I know all that, and it doesn't make any difference whether I think so or not. I see that it's the best thing for us all that Charlie and I should go, and we will go. That's settled. But you will write to me often, and let me know how mother gets along--and tell me the news, won't you?" "Why, of course I am going to," Fox cried with emphasis. "What did you think--that we were going to let you slip away from us suddenly, altogether? Not much. I'm going to write you every blessed week. And see that you answer my letters every week, too." Sally felt comparatively cheerful once more. "I will," she answered, smiling. "Bless your heart!" said Fox. Doctor Galen looked aggrieved. "And where do I come in?" he asked. "Aren't you going to promise to write me, too? Your mother will be at my sanitarium and I have a good mind to give orders that Fox Sanderson is to be told nothing about her. Then you would have to get your information from me." "I didn't s'pose you'd care to have me, you're so busy." Sally was pleased. "But I'd love to, Doctor, I'd love to. Do you really want me to?"