Uncle William was looking at her thoughtfully. “He’d better give up his place when we go,” he said. “He’ll, like enough, stay with me all summer.” “His rooms, you mean?” She mused a little. “Yes, perhaps--” “They must cost a good deal,” said Uncle William. “They do.” She paused a minute. “He is almost sure to take a prize,” she said. “It’s the best work he has done.” “That’ll be good,” said Uncle William. “But we won’t count too much on it. He won’t need money in Arichat. A little goes a long ways up there. Good night.” He was holding out his hand. She placed hers in it slowly. Uncle William lifted the slim fingers. He patted them benignly. “They don’t look good for much, but they’re pretty,” he said. She laughed out quietly. “They have to be,” she said. “They’re my tools. I _have_ to be careful of them. That is one of the things we quarreled about--Alan and I. He knew I ought not to use them and he wouldn’t let me do things for him, and he wouldn’t have a nurse, nor go to the hospital.” She sighed a little. “He was very obstinate.” “Just like a mule,” assented Uncle William. He was stroking the fingers gently. “But he’s got a new driver this time.” He chuckled a little. She looked up quickly. “Has he consented to go?” “Well, we’re goin’.--It comes to the same thing I reckon,” said Uncle William. He was looking at the dark face with the darker lines beneath the eyes. “You’ll hev an easier time,” he said. “It’s been putty hard on you.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” quickly, “--only the misunderstandings--and the quarrels--” “That was the fever,” said Uncle William. “But _I_ didn’t have the fever,” said the girl. “I might have been patient.” “Well, I reckon the Angil Gabriel himself’d quarrel with a man that had one of them intermittent fevers,” said the old man thoughtfully. “They’re powerful trying’. You feel better--a little--and you perk up and think you’re goin’ to get well, and then, fust thing you know, there you are--all to do over again. If I had my ch’ice of all the diseases in the calendar, that’s the one I _wouldn’t_ take. Some on ’em you hev the comfort of knowin’ you’ll die of ’em--if ye live long enough.” He chuckled a little. “But this one, ye can’t die and ye can’t get well.” “But _he_ is going to get well?” The girl’s eyes held him. “Yes, he’ll be all right if he can set out in the wind a spell--and the sun. The fever’s broke. What he wants now is plenty to eat and good company. You’ll be comin’ up to see us byme-by, mebbe?” He looked at her hopefully. “Do you think I could?” “Well, I dunno why not. He’ll be gettin’ restless in a month or so. You might as well be married up there as anywhere. We’ve got a good minister--a fust-rate one.” She smiled a little wistfully. “He won’t have me,” she said. “Shucks!” said Uncle William. “You come up, and if he don’t marry you, I will.”