"Why didn't you undeceive him?" she demanded.
"I—I could not. It meant so much to him. As soon as he is well then I shall tell him."
"And if he never gets well——"
"He will!" Helen insisted. "But taking the view that he will not," she added, "only his father and mother know and Peter Smithers. They found it out inadvertently and have sworn to keep the secret." Henriette half closed her eyes thoughtfully as the two sisters looked at each other.
"It seems safe," breathed Henriette, raising her lashes and smiling in relief.
Phil was writing again:
"You do not answer. Helen wrote only one letter to me while I was at the front. I fear that I have offended her. Won't you tell me?"
"I—I must explain in some way!" said Helen.
"Let me!" Henriette interposed. "I've never tried writing on his arm, but I think that I know how from watching you."
She rolled up his sleeve and taking his hand to hold up the arm, as she had seen Helen do, traced the letters, slowly announcing each word as she wrote it: