"Yep. Can't you sleep, Phyl?" He walked a dozen yards with her.

"I couldn't, but I see you're keeping watch, all right. I probably can
now. I suppose I was nervous."

"No wonder. But you may sleep, all right. He won't trouble you any. I'll
guarantee that," he promised largely. "Oh, Phyl!"

She had turned to go, but she stopped at his call. "Well?"

"Don't you be mad at me. I was only fooling the other day. Course I
hadn't ought to have got gay. But a fellow makes a break once in a
while."

Under the stress of her deeper anxiety she had forgotten all about her
tiff with him. It had seemed important at the time, but since then Tom
and his affairs had been relegated to second place in her mind. He was
only a boy, full of the vanity that was a part of him. Somehow, her
anger against him was all burnt out.

"If you never will again, Tom," she conceded.

"I'll be good," he smiled, meaning that he would be good as long as he
must.

"All right," she said, without much enthusiasm.

She left him and passed into the house without haste. But once inside
she fairly flew to Phil's room. On a nail near the head of his bed hung