“Yes.  That’s what I feel,” Joan replied, quite seriously.

Patricia did not eat much that evening, but she gave the impression that she was doing so.

The girls always disposed of the dishes, after dinner, in a wizard-like manner.  They disappeared until morning—­and no questions were asked!

Then, when the meal was over this night, Patricia flung herself on the couch, clasped Cuff in her arms, and asked Joan to sing her to sleep.

“You are tired, Pat.  Was it a hard day?”

Joan came wistfully to the couch.

“No, not hard, only bracing.  They’re going to raise me in the summer, Joan.  We’ll be fat and lazy next winter—­and just think:  the summer in The Gap lies between!” For that was what Joan’s deferred visit had resolved itself into.

“Pat, your cheeks are—­red!”

“Joan, don’t be silly.  I touched them up.  I never could see the difference between rouge and dyes and powder and false teeth!  They’re all aimed at the same thing—­and it isn’t mastication, either.  It’s how you handle the aids to beauty.”

“Dear, funny, pretty old Pat!”

“Joan, go and sing!”

That night Cuff was dreaming the old haunting dream about waking up in the gutter when something startled him.  It was a very soft call.

“Come up here, Cuff, I want you—­close!”

Cuff needed no second invitation!  But the closer he got the more nervous he became.

“Cuff, look at me!”

Cuff looked.

“Cuff—­once—­you wouldn’t have looked!”

Cuff denied this by a vigorous whack of his stumpy tail.

There were a few minutes more during which Patricia said some very remarkable things about being glad that children and dogs could look at her; and that Joan felt happy with her, and that love had something to say for itself if you didn’t wrong it, and then Cuff voluntarily jumped from the bed and scampered into Joan’s room.  Joan was sleeping and Cuff had to tug rather savagely at her sleeve before he attracted her attention.  But when Joan was awake every sense was alert.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, but while she was speaking she was on her way to Patricia’s room.

Patricia was tossing about and laughing gently; she was insisting that she was going up the Climbing Way and that the travelling was hard and the weather hot!  For a moment Joan stood still.  All her strength deserted her, but in that instant she knew the worst, as people do at times—­when the end is near!

It was only three days for Patricia and she never realized the truth for herself.  A nurse, a weary but faithful doctor, and Joan kept her company on the Climbing Way which got easier toward the top.

    “You take the high road and I’ll take the low road
    But I’ll get to Scotland before you——­”

It was Patricia who sang, not Joan, and then she laughed gaily.