"Why didn't you ask him in?" "Because he had to go to Bertram." "Mr. King here?" "Yes, convalescing from a serious illness; a terrible illness, Aunt Belinda,"--the girl's voice began to shake,--"an illness I helped to bring on. If"--the voice refused to go further, but broke in a flood of tears as the speaker collapsed in Miss Barry's amazed arms. "Wait--wait," sobbed Linda. "There, there, child. There, there," was all Miss Belinda could think of to say in the way of comfort while she, her curiosity effervescent, patted the sufferer. "Where are they, Linda?" she asked gently. "In Portland?" "No, at the Benslows'." "The Benslows'!" ejaculated Miss Belinda. "And I grudged that boy a meal!" "Did you say Mr. King is convalescing from something, dear?" "Yes--yes." "Do they want to kill him, taking him to Luella's?" "It's--it's the Lindsays' doings,--and--and--Fred thinks it's all right. He--he has a tent, and he's taking care of him." Miss Barry's voice was very kind and she kept on her mechanical patting of the sobbing figure. "I didn't know they were such special friends, Linda." "They were--weren't before; but everybody wants to help--help Bertram now. You were right all the time, Aunt Belinda. He was--was behaving nobly and--and protecting Father. It was--was dear Father's mistake about--about the Antlers. It has--has all come out now. Oh, why was I so cruel!" "Now, now, dear. Now, now," soothed Miss Belinda, snapping her moist eyelids together. Feeling her helplessness to say the right thing brought to mind her ally. "Where's Mrs. Porter, Linda?" "Gone to see Bertram. Oh, if I only could!" "Why, you can, of course. He isn't in bed, is he?" "I wouldn't care if he was in bed; but how can he ever want to see me again?" Miss Barry pursed her lips and her head gave a little shake over the bowed one. The remorse she used to wish for her niece had evidently come in an avalanche; and the New England conscience could but admit that it was good enough for her. "Oh, there's such a thing as forgiveness in the world," she suggested comfortingly. "You know Bertram stood next to Papa. I don't think Papa knew any difference in his love of us and him. He was just like a son to him, always so faithful and efficient." Miss Barry raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. A few words longed to pass them, but she bit them back. "I fought my admiration of him always because I thought he didn't admire me. I was jealous of him, too. I was the most selfish girl in the world. I wanted to be absorbed in my own trumpery interests nearly all the time; then when I had an hour for Father I wanted him to put me above Bertram in his confidence and consideration; whereas Bertram was always standing shoulder to shoulder with him." "Now, Linda, do be reasonable. You had to go to school. Don't blame yourself too much."