"Oh, Phil, _dear_ Phil! Oh, _please_ don't," I begged. "Oh, Fee
_wouldn't_ want you to talk like this."
"I know he wouldn't. God bless him!" Phil answered in a quieter tone,
dropping his arms by his sides. "Oh, Jack, it cuts me up awfully to
see him lying there so cheerful and serene when he knows that what's
happened has just spoiled his whole life--"
"Oh, _does_ he know?" I exclaimed.
"He insisted on knowing, and bore it like a soldier. When I broke down
he smiled at me, actually _smiled_, Jack, with, 'Why, old fellow, it
isn't so bad--as all that'--_o-oh_!" Phil choked up, and, throwing
himself on the bed, he buried his face deep in the pillows, that Fee
in the next room might not hear his sobs.
* * * * *
That was a miserable day. Dr. Archard came quite early, and after the
consultation we heard that, in the main, he agreed with Dr. Gordon.
"Still," he said to Nora and me, as he was going, "Felix _may_ surprise
us all by recovering much faster and more fully than we expect. The
thing is to get him out of town _just_ as soon as we can, and in the
mean time to follow directions and keep him quiet and cheerful.
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