“Oh, that’s all right,” he said lightly.

“No; it wasn’t right.  I don’t want to abuse people to their faces and behind their backs, when they don’t deserve it.  That isn’t my way.”

“But you couldn’t be expected to know.”

“I ought to have known.”

“How?”

Phebe’s cheeks grew scarlet.  In her contrition, she had walked straight into the trap which she had meant to avoid.  She was silent.

“How could you know?” he urged.  “I don’t think I look in the least like an invalid.”

There was another silence, a long one, while he stood looking down at her curiously.  Then she raised her eyes with an effort.

“I was the girl that ran into you,” she said bluntly.

The young man’s face suddenly became somewhat less expressive than the skull which he had kept as a souvenir of the experience they were discussing.  That at least expressed a cheery unconcern; his face expressed nothing.

“Oh, I-I-I’m sorry,” he remarked blankly.

“So am I. I didn’t mean to.”

“Have you known it, all the time?  Was that what made you so down on me?”

“I wasn’t down on you.  I didn’t think much about you, either way,” Phebe said, with unflattering directness.

“But did you know it?”

“Not till last night, when you told the story.  Your beard changes you a good deal.”  She paused.  Then she went on, “I didn’t mean to let you know it; but I think it is better that I have, for now I can set you right on one point.  I didn’t go off to leave you.  I did what I could, and then went for help.  When I came back, you were gone.”

“How came you there, anyway?”

“I live there.”

“Oh!  And the skull?”

“I don’t want it.”

“No; but where did you get it?”

“I bought it.”

“Miss McAlister!  Might I ask what for?”

“To study.  I’m going to be a doctor.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” he urged dispassionately.  “You’ll find it very messy.”

“But I like it.  I worked with my father, all the spring, and now I am going to Philadelphia to study there.  Didn’t you know I set your arm?”

“No.”  He looked at her, with frank admiration shining in his eyes.  “Did you, honestly?  Dr. Starr said it was a wonder that it hadn’t slipped out of place any more.”

“I’m glad if I did any good,” she said with sudden humility.  “I must go now, for it is past dinner time.”  She turned to go away.  Then she came back again and held out her strong, ringless hand.  “I’m so sorry,” she said hurriedly; “sorry for all I have made you ache, and sorry for all the hateful things I have said to you.”

“Don’t think about that any more,” he said heartily, as he took her hand.  “Have you told your father, Miss McAlister?”

“Not yet.”

“Please don’t.  There’s no use in saying anything more about it, And now promise me that you will forget it,—­as a favor to me, please.”  As he spoke, he looked steadily into Phebe’s eyes, and her eyes drooped.  For the first time in her life, Phebe McAlister had become self-conscious in the presence of a young man.  He dropped her hand and raised his cap once more.