"I see how it is. You rule the roost."

Phoebe did not reply point-blank to that; she merely said, "All my
chickens are happy, great and small," and an expression of lofty,
womanly, innocent pride illuminated her face and made it superb for a
moment.

In short, it was settled that Staines should accompany her next morning
to Dale's Kloof Farm, if he chose. On inquiry, it appeared that he had
just returned to the hospital with his patient. He was sent for, and
Phoebe asked him sweetly if he would go with her to her house, one
hundred and eighty miles away, and she would be kind to him.

"On the water?"

"Nay, by land; but 'tis a fine country, and you will see beautiful deer
and things running across the plains, and"--

"Shall I find the past again, the past again?"

"Ay, poor soul, that we shall, God willing. You and I, we will hunt it
together."

He looked at her, and gave her his hand. "I will go with you. Your face
belongs to the past, so does your voice."

He then inquired, rather abruptly, had she any children. She smiled.

"Ay, that I have, the loveliest little boy you ever saw. When you are as
you used to be, you will be his doctor, won't you?"