He told her about it. "There is a very nice account of your concert at the Lucinda Home. They give you great credit." He glanced at her proudly. "You made a Dale success of it, didn't you?" His words as well as her own satisfaction at the outcome of the concert made Virginia very happy. All that morning she sang as she went about her various affairs in the big house until Serena smiled to herself and muttered, "Dat chil' is a mekin mo'e noise an' er jay bird er yellin' caze de cher'ies is ripe." The joyous mood was yet upon the girl when she went to the hospital that afternoon and found Joe Curtis sitting up in bed for the first time. "You are looking fine," she told him. "Don't make me blush. I am a modest youth," he protested. Her cheeks flushed prettily. "I am not complimenting your looks but your health." "It is all due to the shave, anyway," he grinned. "The fatal symptoms are not so apparent." She observed his face with interest. "It does look smoother," she admitted. "Who shaved you? Did Miss Knight?" "Hush!" he whispered in mock terror. "Don't let her hear you. She didn't shave me, but she might want to. That would be the last straw. My proud spirit would never survive the outrage of that woman wielding a razor over my tender skin." "I will ask her to shave you. Perhaps she may let me help," giggled Virginia. "I have always looked forward to your visits." "You wouldn't be glad to see me even if I came to shave you?" she demanded with severity. He closed his eyes. "Answer me," she commanded in a stern voice. "I suffer great pain," he groaned. "You are pretending. Answer my question." With closed eyes he pondered aloud. "If she shaved me, her hands would touch my face. They would caress my cheeks, softly--" Virginia blushed. "I wouldn't touch your face for--for--anything," she interrupted. "How would you shave me then? Who ever heard of a barber who did not touch the face of the people he shaved?" "I won't do the shaving. I'll bring the hot water. It will be scalding hot, too," she promised. "Coward," he taunted her, "to scald a man with three ribs and a leg broken." She gave him a very friendly look for one supposed to harbor such brutal intentions; but as he referred to his injuries the fun died out of her face. "It is unfair for you to suffer while I bear no part of the punishment for my own thoughtlessness." Her lips trembled. Joe reached over and patted her hand. "It was my own fault, I tell you," he argued. "I am all hunky dory now, anyway." "I know that my father would be glad to help you. Won't you let him, please?" she begged. "I want no help." His reply was brusque. "I am able to take care of myself."