"I can't think of anything that would be better. It would be uncommonly jolly to hear we hadn't to go back to London, but might just live here always. But that can't be, so it's no good guessing."
"I think it might be managed, dear, after all."
"Have you had a fortune left you, or when you were out, did you meet a fairy who made you a present of the wonderful wishing cap?"
"Yes, that's it, Phil. I met a fairy, a real fairy. My darling, do you remember—" Millie changed her voice and spoke seriously and solemnly—"do you remember how I have always said, as mother did, that father would come back to us again some day?"
Phil breathed hard; his face flushed, then became as pale as death.
"I have seen somebody this afternoon," Millie continued, "who told me that I was right after all. Father is alive. We shall see him soon. Only think of that, my darling."
But Phil made no answer; he had fainted, and Millie's cry for help brought her father and Mrs. Blake to his bedside.
As soon as there were signs of returning consciousness, Millie whispered her father to leave the room till she had more fully prepared her brother to meet him. Then, when Phil had quite recovered, she made him drink his tea and eat a piece of toast before she would allow him to say a word.
Millie was vexed with herself beyond measure. She accused herself of having been too hasty, and not sufficiently careful in breaking the news to him; but had she been twenty times more gentle, Phil's nerves were so weakened by suffering, that the least shock would have unnerved and prostrated him.
He knew all at last, and there was indeed a joyful meeting between father and son. How they feasted their eyes on each other, and how Philip Guntry's heart sank as he noted the bright hectic flush upon the boy's cheek, the wasted body, and the thin trembling hands!