"Here we are, here we are."
"Oh," said Phil, "I thought you never would come again."
PHIL'S DREAM.
"Tut, tut, child, you must not be so doubtful," said the little voice again, and the starry coronet gleamed in his eyes.
"I have brought you some sweet odors of wild flowers, and spicy breath of pine and hemlock, for I thought you needed a tonic."
Phil smelled something exquisite as she spoke, but all he said was,
"What is a tonic?"
"Something the doctors give when children are pale and thin, and do not have enough fresh air. I don't pretend to know what it means, but I often go to see sick children in hospitals, and so I hear about such things."