"Promise?" asked Mrs. Thorpe, smiling.
"No, I won't promise," said Phyllis. "I couldn't promise now. But I will try."
"And now," said Mrs. Thorpe, "let's go and see the babies. There are some new ones since you were here; but one wee mite is gone, forever."
Phyllis sat on the floor among the babies, and played with them, until her cheeks were rosy and her golden hair disheveled. Between romps she told Mrs. Thorpe that John's book would soon be published.
"Well, that is good news!" exclaimed Mrs. Thorpe. "Donald will be so happy to hear of that. It is remarkable that he should have a book published so soon. Poems, too."
"Yes, it is remarkable," replied Phyllis demurely. "But then, John's talent is remarkable."
Meanwhile, in the warden's office, Dr. Thorpe sat at his desk and John sat on it, and swung his long legs. He told him about the book.
"By Jove! I congratulate you, with all my heart," said Dr. Thorpe warmly. "You will let me know the first day it is on sale. I shall wish to buy a copy."
"Buy a copy!" John demurred. "Well, upon my word! You and Mrs. Thorpe will receive a copy, affectionately inscribed by the author; the first copy off the press—the second, I should say."
Dr. Thorpe grinned.