A Birthday Party

Allison received the note from Rose at the time he was expecting Rose herself, and was keenly disappointed. "She might at least have stopped long enough to say good-bye," he said to his father.

"Don't be selfish, lad," laughed the Colonel. "We owe her now a debt that we can never hope to pay."

The young man's face softened. "What a brick she has been!" Then, to himself, he added: "if she had loved me, she couldn't have done more."

Life seemed very good to them both that crisp September morning. Just after breakfast Doctor Jack had announced, definitely, that the crushed hand was saved, unless there should be some unlooked-for complication "But mind you," he insisted, "I don't promise any violin-playing, and there'll be scars, but we'll make it look as well as we can. Anyhow, you'll not be helpless."

Allison smiled happily. "Why can't I play, if it heals up all right?"

"There may be a nerve or two that won't work just right, or a twisted muscle, or something. However we'll keep hoping."

The heavy weight that had lain so long upon Allison's heart was slow in lifting. At first he could not believe the good news, greatly to Doctor Jack's disgust.

"You don't seem to care much," he remarked. "I supposed you'd turn at least one somersault. The Colonel is more pleased than you are."

"Dear old dad," said Allison, gratefully. "I owe him everything."