She, too, was silent, taking her cue from his evident desire. As she paced beside him she had an atmospheric feeling of the power of the man as something absolute and indomitable, centred on fighting with his will for a decision in favour of Phil. He made talk of any kind seem petty. When the door of the operating-room opened they heard its swing, noiseless as were its hinges. Dr. and Mrs. Sanford rose mechanically in answer to that signal; the others turned in their tracks. As Bricktop appeared in the doorway two pairs of old eyes saw him indistinctly through a swimming haze. They were going to learn now if Phil would ever be to their sight as he was before, or---- Bricktop's round face drawn with effort lighted with a smile, as he held up his hand. "You've done it! By God, you've done it, Bricktop!" Peter cried, rushing toward him. "Right!" said Bricktop. "Unless there is some setback in the next two or three days. I don't think there will be. Expect to make him as good as new, only a few little scars!" Two pairs of old eyes still saw that red head like a sun through a fog, but they had heard his words. They did not cry out; their only demonstration was to clasp hands. Helen could not speak, only look at Bricktop with glorious wonder in her eyes, which he was quick to see. "We beat the Boches to it, eh?" he said to her. Peter, too, had become silent in his inexpressible happiness, after he had wrung Bricktop's hand. "If now he should recover his sight!" Henriette exclaimed abstractedly, her words apparently the beginning of a train of thought too rapid to be expressed in speech. "He will!" said Helen and Peter together. Phil was being wheeled from the operating-room back to the ward. Bricktop beckoned the waiting group to come in; then bade them pause at the door until Phil was transferred from his carriage to the bed. The nurse said that he had recovered consciousness, though there was no sign of it in his motionless form. "You tell him!" said Bricktop to Helen. "Bricktop has done it! You win!" she wrote on his arm. Many days awaited him, with the pain devils in their last big dance, but with every day meaning less torture. His hearing had become distinct enough to perceive an ordinary conversation around his chair as a faint hum. The silver harness still clinched his jaw and the bandages were still over his eyes. "Quite as he was before--only a few scars," Bricktop, whom Henriette had met coming out of his office, said in answer to her inquiry when she was on her way to Phil. Mr. Eyes happened to be coming along the path at the time. Henriette joined him and together they crossed the court. "What hope?" she asked. She put the question to him with increased fervour every time that she saw him; and of late she had chanced to see him frequently. "I am going to change the bandages," he replied.