"It has! I don't know what we'd have done without it. We _are_ grateful," agreed Pixie warmly. Her voice out of all the four was the only one which rang true; her eyes smiled across the room with unembarrassed friendliness. Nevertheless Bridgie, looking on, felt a cramp of pain. How much older Pixie had grown in appearance! The lines of strain and repression over which she had sighed more than once before now had surely deepened during the last weeks! Anxiety, no doubt, the strain of nursing--Bridgie comforted herself as best she might, but no explanation could take away the pang which the mother heart feels at the sight of pain on a young face! "Come, Pixie," she said, rising, "we'll make tea! I promised Pat potato cakes as soon as the doctor allowed them, and that's to-day. We'll have a feast!--" "Leave them to themselves," she said confidingly to Pixie when the kitchen was reached. "They'll shake down better without us. Pat's fractious; he always was from a child when he was crossed, but the potato cakes will soothe him. I'm sorry for Mr Glynn. Really, you know, dear, Pat's _exacting_!" "'Deed he is. It's no wonder he is tired of it." Bridgie needed no explanation as to the significance of that second he. "He's been fussing about us for weeks, and now he'll go home and rest. It's a good thing! Will I mash the potatoes for you, Bridgie?" "Thank you, darling," said Bridgie humbly, but her face remained troubled. Once more, and with all her heart, she wished that Pixie were safe at home. The rumble of men's voices could be heard from the kitchen--an amicable rumble it appeared to be, though with mysterious breaks from time to time. Bridgie bustled in, tea-tray in hand, in the middle of one of these breaks, and surprised a look of sadness on each face. She decided that Stephen was to depart forthwith, but such was not the case, since over tea he alluded to an old promise to take Pixie to the Temple, and included Bridgie in an invitation for the following Sunday. "And then I must be off--on Monday--or--or perhaps on Tuesday," he said vaguely. "One day next week." "I leave on Monday too," said Bridgie, and ate her potato cake with recovered zest. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. HE LOVES YOU. That evening Pat showed early signs of fatigue, and requested Bridgie to settle him for the night, bidding the while so marked a farewell to Pixie that she had no alternative but to retire forthwith to her own room. Truth to tell she was not sorry, for sleep had been an uncertain quantity of late, and the prospect of a long undisturbed night was agreeable. She dallied over her undressing, and when Bridgie joined her half an hour later, sat perched upon the bed, dressing-gowned, her hands clasped round her knees, watching with admiring eyes the picture of her sweet-faced sister seated before the dressing-table engaged in brushing out her long fair hair.