"When I get my new countenance, new eyes and ears, and descend on Longfield, even Jane will admit I'm grown up. I am going to show Hanks that he is not the only one who can branch out"--this on the second sheet. "Peter arranged it so you could come, I hear," came the third. "Tell him he has been so kind that I almost regret I did not go to work for him and ruin his business." There was something very like a snort from the direction of Peter, who was caught grinning when the others looked around. "Tell Bill Hurley, who is for the Allies but a pessimist about their chances, that the Allies are going to win the war. And you are coming often, aren't you? Won't they let you? This conversation is getting one-sided." He pulled up his sleeve, which was a signal to Helen. "Yes," she wrote, at Dr. Sanford's dictation. "Peter has got a little house for us and permission to stay near you." "This is just simply HAPPINESS"--Phil spelled out the word in capitals. "Tell Peter he is certainly some arranger. Isn't he going to come and see me, too?" Peter was swallowing hard--a habit that he had formed since he had arrived at the hospital. He advanced to Phil's side. "Peter is here," Helen wrote. Phil's hand went out, searching in the darkness, and Peter's leapt toward it and the two clasped in a firm, prolonged grip. "Shall I tell him that every cent I have is his, when he expected nothing?" Peter put the question to Helen. She knew only the vague outline of their story, yet understood the principle involved, and she hesitated. Peter studied her face with his shrewd glance. "I guess not," he said. "He's fighting for something worth more than three millions and money won't make a fellow of Phil's calibre fight any harder. I guess it would be kind of cheap to do it now. I'll wait till he can see me, or till we know that he is not going to----" "He will!" put in Helen sharply. "Say," Peter said admiringly, "they ought to put you in command of an army corps out there! You've got the kind of spirit that would break the line." "Spirit has nothing to do with it," Helen replied. "It is simply a fact." "I'd make it the whole army!" said Peter, who belonged to the school which believes that if you make up your mind to do a thing you will do it. Phil was writing again, his fingers moving more rapidly than usual, his writing less distinct, as if he were under the pressure of strong emotion: "I should have slipped if it had not been for her. It is a thing one can't talk about--the great thing of all, that makes me bear the pain and make the fight--what Henriette has done for me." "Henriette!" Dr. and Mrs. Sanford and Peter uttered the word together and stared involuntarily at Helen, in blank inquiry. She looked away quickly at the floor and murmured: "Yes, Henriette!" There was a silence then, while she took the pad and pencil from Phil and removed the little table, which provided her with the relief of movement.