[CHAPTER V.]
PHILLIPS; AND A STORY.
"Well, Mr. Ellery, here I am!"
The dwarf had come down from the tree, leaving the child asleep in the tree-hollow, with Cousin Goldfinch to keep watch over her; now he was sitting in the root-seat of the yellow birch, looking up at a man who stood before him.
"Yes," said the dwarf; "here you are. Anything new? It isn't a month since you came."
The man said it was more than a month. "I've brought the papers," he said. "There are deeds to sign, and a lot of things to look over. Hadn't we better come into the house, sir?"
"Presently!" said the dwarf, looking up at the tree. He was not absolutely sure that the child was sound asleep, and if she waked suddenly she might be frightened to find herself alone.
"You are not looking well, Phillips!" he remarked, easily.
"I'm not well, Mr. Ellery," said the man, with some heat. "I'm worn out, sir, with all this business. How you can persist in such foolishness passes my comprehension. Here are leases running out, petitions coming in, bills and letters and—the office looks like the dead letter office," he broke out, "and the clerks are over their heads in work, and I am almost broke down, as I tell you, and you are—"
"By the way!" said the dwarf, settling himself comfortably, "where am I, Phillips?"
"In Thibet!" replied the other, sulkily. "Hunting the wild ass."