"Ah! Phil," said Miss Crawford, holding out her hand—which he was proud enough to take, though he wished his own had been cleaner to meet it—"you are the very boy I was wishing to see. Here is your sister quite unmanageable this morning. No, Millie, you be quiet," she added, as Millie opened her mouth to utter an emphatic denial of the charge that was brought against her. "I will tell your brother, and you will see that his opinion entirely agrees with mine;" and she nodded her head merrily. "Now listen, Phil. These are the facts of the case. Dr. Bethune, a friend of mine, whom Millie knows, has bought a lovely cottage at Bournemouth for the express purpose of accommodating any little sick folks that may happen to need a change of air. An old woman—and a very kind one she is, too—has been put in this cottage to nurse those children who are weakly enough to require nursing, and to see that all are happy and well cared for. Now, Dr. Bethune is going to send off three of his little patients who have been ill, but there is room for a fourth visitor, and he and I both wish Millie to make that fourth. But I cannot get her even to listen to me. She says such a thing is simply impossible; and when I argue the point, she overwhelms me with solemn assertions that you and your uncle would starve to death in her absence, turn the house out of window, and commit all kinds of absurdities. Now, just tell her that she is a conceited little woman, and that you can keep house almost as well as she can." "Yes, indeed, you ought to go," said Phil heartily. "You know you have been ailing ever since aunt died. The sea air will set you up splendidly for next winter. I think, Miss Crawford," he continued, turning to her, and lowering his voice, "Millie is afraid that uncle and I shall quarrel, but I promise I will do my very best to keep the peace." But Millie still hesitated. "Do go, there's a darling," Phil said coaxingly. "'Tisn't like stopping away for ever, you know." "Well, she need not decide now," said Miss Crawford; "and, indeed, nothing can be arranged till we know what your uncle says about it. You had better talk it over when you are all three together, and then, Phil, you must come over to my house and tell me what you have decided to do." Phil readily promised he would do so. "Isn't she a darling?" cried Millie enthusiastically, when Miss Crawford had gone. "She is more than that," replied Phil slowly, "she is an—an angel." He had tried to find a comparison that was less common, but he could think of none other that was so appropriate. Phil did all in his power to persuade Millie to go to Bournemouth, but she was most unwilling to consent. She shook her head in reply to all his arguments, and said that she could promise nothing till she had spoken to her uncle, for whose return they waited long that night.