sketched themselves on the blackness. The girl's face was the only bit
of color. It glowed like a red flower, out of the gloom. Uncle William's
glance came back to it. "I got your letter all right," he said.

"I knew you would come."

"Yes." He was searching absently in his pocket. He drew out the bluish
slip of paper with rough edge. He handed it to her gravely. "I couldn't
take that, my dear, you know."

She put it aside on the table. "I thought you might not have money
enough to come at once, and he needed you."

"Yes, he needed me. He's better."

Her face lightened. The rays of color awoke and played in it. "You have
cured him."

"Well,"--Uncle William was judicious,--"I give him a pill."

She laughed out. "He needed _you_," she said.

"Did he?" Uncle William leaned forward. "I never had anybody need
me--not really need me." His tone confided it to her.

She looked back at him. "I should think every one would."

He looked a little puzzled. "I dunno. But I see, from the way you wrote,
that _he_ did, so I come right along."