Mrs. Callender showed the note to Phillida. "It would save our selling the bonds," she said, "but I do not like to go in debt, and of course we would repay it by degrees." "It is a trifle to her," said Phillida, "and I think we might accept two hundred dollars or more as a loan to be repaid." "Well, if you think so, Phillida, but I do hate to be in debt." Phillida sat thinking for a minute. Then her pale face colored. "Did the letter come by mail?" she asked. Mrs. Callender examined the envelope. "I thought it came from the postman, but there is no postmark; Sarah brought it to me." "Suppose you ask Sarah to come up," said Phillida. On Sarah's arrival Phillida asked her who brought this letter. "It wuz that young man with the short side whiskers just under his ears and a cap that's got a front before and another one behind, so't I don't see for the life of me how he gets it on right side before." "The man that brought flowers when I was sick?" "That very same, Miss." "All right, Sarah. That'll do." Then when Sarah had gone Phillida leaned her head back and said: "It won't do, Mother. We can't accept it." It was a tedious week after Dr. Gunstone's last visit before a trip was finally determined on and a destination selected, and Mrs. Callender, who had a genius for thoroughness, demanded yet another week in which to get ready. Phillida, meanwhile, sat wearily waiting for to-morrow to follow to-day. "Mother," she said, one day, rousing herself from a reverie, "what a good fellow Cousin Philip is, after all! I used to feel a certain dislike for what seemed to me irresolution and inactivity in him. But ever since I was taken sick he has been just like a brother to me." "He has taken charge of us," said Mrs. Callender. "He has inquired about board for us at Hampton, and he has worked out all the routes by rail and steamboat."