For a few minutes Phil neither moved nor spoke. Then he said:
"I should like to see Miss Crawford, Sir. I have something to tell her in case I should die. Do you think she will come?"
"I am sure she will. You shall see her to-morrow."
Phil smiled gratefully.
The doctor was as good as his word. He carried Phil's message that same evening to Miss Crawford, and early on the following day she was at the boy's bedside. To his amazement she took his scorched, blistered hand in hers, and reverently kissed it.
Phil pulled it hastily away.
"Don't do that, Miss Crawford," he said. "You don't know what you are doing."
"Yes, I do," she answered, with tears in her eyes, "for I know you to be such a brave, fearless boy, that I am proud to own you as my friend."
A sob rose in Phil's throat.
"Miss Crawford, if you don't want me to die of shame, don't speak so," he said humbly. "It is because you don't know that you say so. I asked to see you because I could not die with the dreadful load there is upon my conscience. I tried to tell Dr. Bethune, but I couldn't get out the words. O Miss Crawford, you will hate me so when you hear it."