"Oh, the afternoon, please. But Waveney,"--and here Mollie seemed on the verge of tears--"of course I want to see Mr. Ingram, but yet I do dread it so. What am I to say to him? And how am I to thank him, for all he has done? I feel quite overwhelmed by it all." And then, as Mollie was still very weak, one or two tears rolled down her cheeks; but Waveney kissed them away. "Oh, you silly child!" she said, tenderly. "Fancy crying, just because a kind friend wants to come and see you! Why, it will do you all the good in the world! There is no one so amusing as Monsieur Blackie. Take my advice, Mollie dear. Be as kind to him as you like, but don't trouble your poor little head about making him grateful speeches. Wait until you are stronger. You may depend upon it," she continued, "that the Black Prince has simply been pleasing himself, quite as much as he has you. I expect generosity is just an amiable vice of his--a sort of craze, don't you know. He likes playing minor providence in other people's lives. It makes him feel warm and comfortable." But Mollie was quite indignant at this. "You are very clever," she said, rather petulantly. "But you talk great nonsense, sometimes. An amiable vice, indeed! I should like father to hear that! Why, the other night he said, quite seriously, that Mr. Ingram had been a perfect godsend to us all. And Waveney"--and here Mollie's voice grew plaintive--"I do feel as though I owe my life to him. For if it had not been for Sir Hindley, and Nurse Helena, and Nurse Miriam I should never have got well--for father had no money, and what could we have done?" and here Mollie broke off with a sob. "Darling, do you think I don't know all that?" returned Waveney, vexed with herself for her attempt at a joke. "I would not undervalue Mr. Ingram's kindness for the world. He has been our benefactor--yours, and mine, and father's, and Noel's. As for myself, I could grovel in the dust at his feet, out of sheer gratitude for all his goodness to my Mollie. What I meant to say was this: Mr. Ingram does not want our thanks. We are his friends, and he just loves to help us. So be as nice to him as you like, sweetheart, but don't embarrass him with grateful speeches, for you would certainly cry over them--and then he will get into a panic, and ring violently for Nurse Helena." And then Mollie laughed. And after that they talked with their old cheerfulness. Indeed, Waveney was quite wild with spirits. For Althea had told her, that morning, that she would give her a month's holiday, when Mollie went to Eastbourne. It so happened that Waveney had promised to spend an hour at the Hospital with Corporal Marks on the very afternoon that was fixed for Mr. Ingram's visit. The old man was depressed and ailing. "Jonadab has never got over the sergeant's loss," as his sister used to say; and she reminded Mollie of this.