"And when I grow up, I'm just going to live with you forever and ever.
Do you suppose papa will be always going to Europe then?"
"I trust not," said Mrs. Whitney fervently. "Dicky, would you like to have a secret?" she asked suddenly.
The boy's eyes sparkled. "Wouldn't I mamma?" he cried, springing forward in the chair; "ugh!"
"Take care, darling," warned his mother. "You must remember the poor leg."
Dick made a grimace, but otherwise took the pain pluckily. "Tell me, do, mamma," he begged, "the secret."
"Yes, I thought it would be a pleasant thing for you to have it to think of, darling, while you are getting well. Dicky, papa is coming home soon."
"Right away?" shouted Dick so lustily that Mrs. Henderson popped her head in the door. "Oh! beg your pardon," she said; "I thought you wanted something."
"Isn't it lovely," cried Mrs. Whitney, "to have a boy who is beginning to find his lungs?"
"Indeed it is," cried the parson's wife, laughing; "I always picked up heart when my children were able to scream. It's good to hear you, Dicky," as she closed the door.
"Is he—is he—is he?" cried Dick in a spasm of excitement, "coming right straight away, mamma?"