But the result of Polly's imprudence was less harmful than she had feared. Roy grew less restless. From that evening he would lie listening for hours to the light footsteps about the house, his eyes would brighten as they paused at his door. The flowers that Polly now ventured to lay on his tray were always placed within his reach; he would lie and look at them contentedly. Once a scrap of white paper attracted his eyes. How eagerly his thin fingers clutched it There were only a few words traced on it--'Good-night, my dear brother Roy; I am so glad you are better;' but when Mildred was not looking the paper was pressed to his lips and hidden under his pillow. 'You need not move about so quietly, I think he likes to hear you,' Mildred said to the girl when she had assured herself that no hurtful effect had been the result of Polly's carelessness, and Polly had thanked her with glistening eyes. How light her heart grew; she burst into little quavers and trills of song as she flitted about Mrs. Madison's bright kitchen. Roy heard her singing one of his favourite airs, and made Mildred open the door. 'She has the sweetest voice I ever heard,' he said with a sigh when she had finished. 'Ask her to do that oftener; it is like David's harp to Saul,' cried the lad, with tears in his eyes; 'it refreshes me.' Once they could hear her fondling the dog in the entry below. 'Dear old Sue, you are such a darling old dog, and I love you so, though you are too stupid to be taught any tricks,' she said, playfully. When Sue next found admittance into her master's room Roy called the animal to him with feeble voice. 'Let her be, I like to have her here,' he said, when Mildred would have lifted her from the snow-white counterpane. 'Sue loves her master, and her master loves Sue,' and as the creature thrust its slender nose delightedly into his hand Roy dropped a furtive kiss on the smooth black head. CHAPTER XXX 'I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS' 'Ask me no more: what answer should I give? I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; Ask me no more. 'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are seal'd: I strove against the stream and all in vain: Let the great river take me to the main: No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; Ask me no more.' Tennyson's _Princess_. Richard had promised to pay them another visit shortly, and one Saturday evening while Polly and Sue were racing each other among the gravel-pits and the furze-bushes of the people's great common, and the lights twinkled merrily in the Vale of Health, and the shifting mist shut out the blue distances of Harrow and Pinner, Mildred was charmed as well as startled by the sound of his voice in the hall. 'Well, Rex, you are getting on famously, I hear; thanks to Aunt Milly's nursing,' was his cheerful greeting.