“As for Aunt Patricia,—­if you would only remember how good she was to you after your accident, how she nursed you, and waited on you, and read to you hour after hour,—­she has been tender and loving to all of you, especially little Elsie, and is trying to help me bring up my children as best we can, alone.  And, Phil, my boy, sometimes it is as hard for us as it is for you, to always know what is best to do without the little mother’s help.”

Phil’s arm stole around his father’s neck.  “I’ll ask Aunt Patricia’s pardon in the morning, the very first thing,” he said, in a low voice.  “I’ll tell her that I didn’t understand her, just like she didn’t understand me, and after this I’ll be like the three wise monkeys of Japan.”

“How is that?” asked his father, smiling.

“Why, never say or hear or see more than I ought to.  Keep my hands over my eyes or ears or mouth, whenever I’m tempted to be rude.  Instead of thinking that she’s fussy and particular, I’ll only see the wrinkles in her face that the trouble made, and I’ll remember how good she’s been to you and all of us.”

His father hugged him closer.  “If you can always remember to do that,” he said, “your part of the world will certainly be a happy place to live in.  If you can be blind and deaf to other people’s faults and speak only pleasant things.”

“Papa,” said Phil, in the pause that followed, hiding his face on his father’s shoulder and speaking with a tremble in his voice, “I’m mighty sorry I did so many bad things to-day:  broke the music-box, and ran away with Elsie, and mortified the family name, begging on the streets.  That’s what Aunt Patricia told Mrs. Driggs.  I never want to run away again as long as I live.  Oh, if you’ll only forgive me and let me stay, I’d rather be your little boy than anybody else’s in the whole world!”

The doctor gathered him closer in his arms and kissed him.  “Do you think that anything in the whole world could make me give you up, my little Philip?” he said.  “You have been a great worry to me sometimes, but you are one of my very greatest blessings, and I love you—­oh, my child, you will never know how much!”

A great, happy “bear-hug” almost choked him, as Phil’s arms were clasped about his neck.  Then he said, “I think we understand each other all the way around, now.  Shut your eyes, little man, and I’ll rock you to sleep.”

Phil snuggled down against him like a little bird in a warm nest, and there they sat in the firelight together.  The old rocking-chair threw a giant shadow on the wall as it swung slowly back and forth, back and forth. “Creakity-creak,” droned the rockers. “Creakity-creak, squeakity-squeak,” and to the music of their drowsy song Phil fell fast asleep in his father’s arms.

CHAPTER VIII.

DAGO BIDS FAREWELL TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY.

Hey there, Ring-tail, I’ve just slipped in a moment to say good-bye.  I’m off for California in the morning.  It seems that I’m at the bottom of all the trouble in this family, so I’m to be shipped by the fast express.  But you needed waste any sympathy on me.  I am going back to the old California garden among the vines and the pepper-trees, where I shall miss all the winter’s snow and ice that I have been dreading.