The stranger took a notebook and pencil from his pocket and wrote down the names. When he closed the book, Billie saw that it was of Russian leather with a coat of arms in dull gilt embossed on the back. The pencil fitted into a flat gold case on which also was the coat of arms. She glanced quickly at Phoebe and her heart gave a leap. It was not difficult to connect coats of arms and grand things with Phoebe. Billie could easily picture her in the midst of fine surroundings. "She is a princess," she thought wistfully. "And beautiful and good." The stranger also was watching Phoebe. His face worked with emotion and he said something in German in a low voice. "And her father?" he asked suddenly. "Where is he?" "At the cabin," answered Billie. "You are indeed very kind," and the stranger, making a low foreign bow, joined his companion in the touring car and in two minutes the great machine was lost in the distance. Billie's mind was filled with conjectures on the journey to Phoebe's home a little later. When they left the car to climb the path to the cabin, she lingered behind the others, thinking deeply, although she had seen Richard from below standing on the very edge of a rocky shelf scanning the road with the doctor's telescope. With a shy obstinacy new to her candid nature she pretended not to notice him or to mind that Phoebe with ingenuous joy had run ahead to speak to him first. "I've been waiting for you a long time, Miss Billie," he exclaimed, having left the others and run down the path to meet her. "We had to go to the village first," answered Billie. "No, no. I mean it has seemed an infernal long time since the 'Comet' pulled up down there in the road and you lagged behind." "Not ten minutes." "I guess it would have seemed long to you if you had been sitting here since eight A. M. watching every vehicle that passed. Not long ago a big black car stopped down there and I was pretty sure it had come to fetch me." He gave her one of his ingratiating smiles. "Who was it?" asked Billie. "I don't know. They saw the doctor for a minute and then went on. But I don't want to talk about them. Why didn't you hurry?" "I always heard that sick men were children," laughed Billie, "and I can see that you are quite ill because you are such a child. We shall take you home now and feed you up on cream and eggs, providing we can get any." Billie was glad to see Dr. Hume again. They clasped hands like old comrades. There was a peculiar radiance in his brown eyes as he looked at her. "You've had a great honor paid you, Miss Billie," he said. "What in the world?" "The gods have chosen you to turn their mills a while and you are turning them pretty fast, I can tell you." CHAPTER XX. A LONG SLEEP.