As David climbed the hill by the woodland he thought musingly, "Strikes me Phœbe didn't seem extra glad to see me. Perhaps she was just surprised, perhaps my being crippled changed her. Oh, Phœbe, I want you more than ever! I wonder--is it some nerve to ask you to marry a cripple?" However, all disquieting thoughts were forgotten as he reached the summit of the hill and saw his boyhood home. He whistled his old greeting whistle. At the sound of it Mother Bab ran to the door. "It's David come home!" she cried, her renewed eyes turned to the road, her hands outstretched. "I'm back, mommie!" he called before his running feet could take him to her. But as he held her again to his heart there were no words adequate for the greeting. Their joy was great enough to be inarticulate for a while. "But, Davie," the mother said after a long silence, "you come running! You have no crutches!" "Why, mommie!" There was questioning wonder in his voice. "How do you know? You couldn't see! You are blind!" "Oh, Davie, not any more! I can see!" "You can see?" He put a hand at each side of the white-capped head and looked into her eyes. They were not the dull, half-staring eyes of blindness but eyes lighted by loving recognition. Again words failed him as he swept her into his arms. But he could not long be silent. "Tell me," he cried. "I must know! What miracle--who--how--who did it? When?" "Oh, Davie, you're not changed a bit! Same old question box! But I'll tell you all about it." Throughout the story Mother Bab told ran the name of Phœbe. "Phœbe planned it all, Phœbe made the arrangements with the doctor, Phœbe took me down to Philadelphia, Phœbe was there when I found I could see"--it was Phœbe, Phœbe, till the man felt his heart singing the name. "Isn't she going on with her music lessons?" he asked. "I was afraid she'd be in the city when I got back." "She's given them up. It ain't like her to begin a thing and get tired of it so soon. All at once after we came back from Philadelphia she said she had enough of music, she was tired of it, and was going to stay at home and be useful. I'm glad she's not going off again, for it gets lonesome without her. You stopped to see her on the way up?" "Yes, just a minute. I'm going down again later. She hardly said two words to me." "You took her by surprise, I guess. Give her a chance and she'll ask you a hundred questions."