Then Derrick bent down and whispered something that brought a new light into the crippled lad's eyes and a faint flush to his pale cheeks. "Oh, Dare!" he exclaimed. "Is it true? Really! Do you mean it?" Derrick answered that it was true, and he meant every word of it. CHAPTER XX GOOD-BY TO THE COLLIERY What Derrick whispered to Paul Evert as he bent over him was: "You needn't ever go down in the mine again, Polly. I want you to go to Philadelphia with me to learn to be an artist. The money's ready, and it's all fixed that I'm to go; and if you only say the word it will be fixed for you to go too. I'm only waiting for you to get strong to tell you the whole story. Don't say a word about it yet, though, for it's a secret." A hope like this was a wonderful medicine to the delicate lad, and when, an hour later, his father came in, he was astonished at the change for the better that had come over him. "Why, Paul lad, an hour since I was thinking I'd saved thee for naught but to die, after all," said the miner. "Now I find thee bright and smiling, and chipper as a tomtit. Whatever's happened?" "Derrick's been to see me, father." "Ay; I might ha' know'd it. No other could cheer thee like him. He's a noble lad, and a true friend o' thine, Paul. I doubt if another would ha' gone back i' t' face o' t' skirling waters on chance o' saving thee." "I'm sure not, father." While Paul was thus talking of Derrick, Derrick was talking of Paul. He had gone home full of a newly formed plan. In fact plans had formed themselves so rapidly in his mind since Mr. Halford's visit that they were already trying to crowd each other from his memory. The one now uppermost was in regard to Paul. Going to his own room, he took out from a small drawer, where he kept his choicest treasures, the sketch of the underground picnic party that Paul had drawn down in the mine, and given him while they were imprisoned together in the darkness. It was soiled and a little torn, but every spot of grime upon it was a memento of that terrible experience; and though the picture was of recent origin, associations were already clustered so thickly about it that to Derrick it was a priceless treasure. Showing it to his mother, he asked what she thought of it. "I think it is capital!" she exclaimed. Then Derrick told her the story of the sketch, of Paul's longing to be an artist, and his dread of going into the mine again. He ended by saying, "Now, mother, when I go to Philadelphia to prepare for college, can't Polly go with me and study to be an artist? He won't be very expensive, and I'm sure we're going to have money enough for all."