"Why, of course!" said Phyllis, though she had not really stopped to ask herself before whether she was or not. There had been so many exciting things to do. "Wouldn't you be happy if you could buy everything you wanted, and every one was lovely to you, and you had pretty clothes and a lovely house--and a rose-garden?" "Yes--if I could buy everything I wanted," said Allan. His voice dragged a little. Phyllis sprang up, instantly penitent. "You're tired, and I've been talking and talking about my silly little woes till I've worn you out!" she said. "But--Allan, you're getting better. Try to move this arm. The hand I'm holding. There! That's a lot more than you could do when I first came. I think--I think it would be a good plan for a masseur to come down and see it." "Now look here, Phyllis," protested Allan, "I like your taste in houses and music-boxes and bull-dogs, but I'll be hanged if I'll stand for a masseur. There's no use, they can't do me any good, and the last one almost killed me. There's no reason why I should be tormented simply because a professional pounder needs the money." "No, no!" said Phyllis. "Not that kind! Wallis can have orders to shoot him or something if he touches your spinal column. All I meant was a man who would give the muscles of your arms and shoulders a little exercise. That couldn't hurt, and might help you use them. That wouldn't be any trouble, would it? _Please!_ The first minute he hurts, you can send him flying. You know they call massage lazy people's exercise." "I believe you're really interested in making me better," said Allan, after a long silence. "Why, of course," said Phyllis, laughing. "That's what I'm here for!" But this answer did not seem to suit Allan, for some reason. Phyllis said no more about the masseur. She only decided to summon him, any way. And presently Wallis came in and turned all the lights on. XIII