"It's our lodger, Mrs. Waring, don't be skeered. Come up and see him, if you like, and then your mind will be easy." "Yes, yes," whispered Phebe faintly, "in a minute I will." She would have fallen on the stairs if Jim had not put his strong arm round her, but when she reached the sick man's room she was herself again, only that her breath seemed very short. Just for an instant she stood at the foot of the bed, and then going to the side she took up one of his thin hands, and said gently: "Ralph, dear, why did you not come home?" "I didn't want any fine folks about me." "But I am not fine, I am your wife. You will come home now, won't you?"--the voice was full of pleading. "It is your home, I've kept the business on--it's yours, too." "Of course it is." There was not one loving tone in the voice, but he was stroking her hand gently. He was glad she had come, glad of her gentle welcome, but he did not want to show it. Jim Coates and his wife were dumb with surprise. When the meaning of it all dawned upon them, with the instinct of true gentle-people they crept quietly downstairs. Phebe bent and kissed Ralph on the brow. "I'll leave you now, dear," she said, "just for a little while. I must go home and arrange for your coming. I will not be long, and if we roll you up well in blankets and drive in a closed cab the journey will not harm you." His only answer was a nod, but that was better than a refusal. She walked home like one in a dream. Stephen was there waiting to ask her some question about the garden scheme. He was talking to Nanna. Almost abruptly Phebe broke in upon them. Her face was very white, she was trembling all over, and could scarcely speak. Nanna rushed to her, thinking she would fall before she reached a chair. It was Stephen who gently placed a seat near, and held his arm round her as Nanna stooped to loosen her boots. "Poor dearie, you're quite done up!" said Nanna, but she knew all the time the shadow had fallen. "I've found Ralph," she whispered. "I want you to light a fire upstairs--I am going to fetch him home in a cab." Stephen withdrew his arm and caught hold of the chair-back to steady himself; the room seemed to swim before him. "Yes," was all Nanna answered. "Did you know?" gasped Phebe. "Yes." "And you?" turning to Stephen. He could only shake his head. The sight of Stephen's struggle gave her fresh strength. "Why did you not tell me, Nanna?" "It was too difficult--I did not know." The words came with great effort. Phebe stroked her hair with a comforting touch; they had exchanged places. It was Stephen who fetched the cab, and when it drove up again and the limp figure with the incessant cough stepped out, he was standing on the pavement, looking a sad, solitary figure. [Illustration: "HE WAS STANDING ON THE PAVEMENT LOOKING A SAD, SOLITARY FIGURE."] It was very late. The shop had long been closed. Jack was safely in bed. Only Nanna and Janie knew of Ralph's arrival. CHAPTER XXVII