piece of yellow paper. Paul was getting better, and he should not
see Mr. Robinson's check for money, which that gentleman had
insisted upon leaving for the sick boy's expenses. They were not
poor, neither were they rich, but Paul Hastings should not want
for anything through his sister's pride.

"He was so glad to hear you were improving," she went on, "and
particularly said you were not to worry about the papers. It
seems they have some important clue, and feel positive of
recovering them."

"If they only could," sighed Paul. "To think that I should have
lost them! And they meant a small fortune to the Robinsons. What
if they should become poor, and through me!"

"Oh, you silly boy! Stop that nonsense this moment. There! I
heard Clip coming. I am glad, for she knows better than I how to
control you."

It was Clip who entered the room, but what with her buoyant, happy
way, and the great bunch of flowers she carried, one could hardly
be certain it was only a girl - it might have been some fairy of
sunshine.

"Well!" she exclaimed, glancing from Paul to Hazel. "You are
better, Paul. Has Hazel been treating you again with some of her
magic suggestion business? At any rate, I cannot deny its power."
She flittered over to the bed and playfully buried Paul's face in
the bouquet. "There! Aren't they splendid? And you would never
guess who sent them. Guess, Hazel."