“’Ey do anyfing!” boasted Little Brother.

Before Elnora missed her, Alice, who had gone to investigate, came flying across the shadows and through the sunshine waving a paper.  She thurst it into Elnora’s hand.

“There is a man-person—­a stranger-person!” she shouted.  “But he knows you!  He sent you that!  You are to be the doctor!  He said so!  Oh, do hurry!  I like him heaps!”

Elnora read Edith Carr’s telegram to Philip Ammon and understood that he had been ill, that she had been located by Edith who had notified him.  In so doing she had acknowledged defeat.  At last Philip was free.  Elnora looked up with a radiant face.

“I like him ‘heaps’ myself!” she cried.  “Come on children, we will go tell him so.”

Terry and Alice ran, but Elnora had to suit her steps to Little Brother, who was her loyal esquire, and would have been heartbroken over desertion and insulted at being carried.  He was rather dragged, but he was arriving, and the emergency was great, he could see that.

“She’s coming!” shouted Alice.

“She’s going to be the doctor!” cried Terry.

“She looked just like she’d seen angels when she read the letter,” explained Alice.

“She likes you ‘heaps!’ She said so!” danced Terry.  “Be waiting!  Here she is!”

Elnora helped Little Brother up the steps, then deserted him and came at a rush.  The stranger-person stood holding out trembling arms.

“Are you sure, at last, runaway?” asked Philip Ammon.

“Perfectly sure!” cried Elnora.

“Will you marry me now?”

“This instant!  That is, any time after the noon boat comes in.”

“Why such unnecessary delay?” demanded Ammon.

“It is almost September,” explained Elnora.  “I sent for mother three days ago.  We must wait until she comes, and we either have to send for Uncle Wesley and Aunt Margaret, or go to them.  I couldn’t possibly be married properly without those dear people.”

“We will send,” decided Ammon.  “The trip will be a treat for them.  O’More, would you get off a message at once?”

Every one met the noon boat.  They went in the motor because Philip was too weak to walk so far.  As soon as people could be distinguished at all Elnora and Philip sighted an erect figure, with a head like a snowdrift.  When the gang-plank fell the first person across it was a lean, red-haired boy of eleven, carrying a violin in one hand and an enormous bouquet of yellow marigolds and purple asters in the other.  He was beaming with broad smiles until he saw Philip.  Then his expression changed.

“Aw, say!” he exclaimed reproachfully.  “I bet you Aunt Margaret is right.  He is going to be your beau!”

Elnora stooped to kiss Billy as she caught her mother.

“There, there!” cried Mrs. Comstock.  “Don’t knock my headgear into my eye.  I’m not sure I’ve got either hat or hair.  The wind blew like bizzem coming up the river.”