“Yes, and equally sure that I am hungry.  When will you be ready for breakfast?  I’ve been up these two hours.”

“Well, well, well, what will Graydon say?  He thinks you are still little better than a ghost.”

“He will say that I have been very sensible, and he will find me very substantial and matter-of-fact.  The question now uppermost is, When will breakfast be ready?” cried the young girl, laughing, in a childlike enjoyment of her sister’s wonder, and a loving woman’s anticipation of triumph over the man who had once called her “weak and lackadaisical.”

She responded warmly to the embrace of Mrs. Muir, who added, “You have come back to us a princess.  Why, even Henry, whom nothing moves out of the even tenor of his way, paused in his shaving, and with one side of his face all lathered opened the door to listen.”

“You tell him,” cried Madge, in merry vein, “that he has given me the greatest compliment I ever received.  But compliments are not breakfast.”

Mrs. Muir returned to complete her toilet, and her husband soon appeared.

“Madge,” he said, greeting her kindly, “you have brought about great changes.  How have you accomplished them all in so brief a time?”

“The time has not been so very brief,” she replied.  “I have been away over two years, remember.  It’s all very simple, Henry.  I went to work to get well and to learn something, as you give your mind and time to business.  In the Waylands, my old German professor, and especially in the magnificent climate I had splendid allies.  And you know I had nothing else to do.  One can do a great deal in two years with sufficient motive and steady effort toward a few points.”

“What was your motive, Madge?”

A slow, deep color stole into her face, but she looked unflinchingly into his eyes as she asked, “Was not the hope of being what I am to-day, compared with what I was, sufficient motive?”

“Yes,” he replied, thoughtfully, “it was; but it appears strange to me that more girls do not show your sense.  Nine-tenths of the pallid creatures that I see continue half alive through their own fault.”

“If they knew the pleasure of being thoroughly alive,” said Madge, “they wouldn’t dawdle another hour.  I believe that I might have regained health long before if I had set about it.”

“Well, Madge, as your guardian I wish to tell you that I am deeply gratified.  You have done more for yourself than all the world could do for you.  I am a plain man, you know, and not given to many words.  There is only one thing that I detest more than a silly woman, and that is a heartless, speculating one.  Both are sure to make trouble sooner or later.  You certainly do not belong to the first type, and I don’t believe you will ever make a bad use of the beauty you have won so honestly.  Let me give you a bit of business experience, Madge.  I have seen men falter and fail by the