"He was always so polite and good-natured and obliging," sighed Cecily.
"He was just a real gentleman," said the Story Girl.
"There ain't many fellows as fair and square as Peter," said Dan.
"And such a worker," said Felix.
"Uncle Roger says he never had a boy he could depend on like Peter," I said.
"It's too late to be saying all these nice things about him now," said the Story Girl. "He won't ever know how much we thought of him. It's too late."
"If he gets better I'll tell him," said Cecily resolutely.
"I wish I hadn't boxed his ears that day he tried to kiss me," went on Felicity, who was evidently raking her conscience for past offences in regard to Peter. "Of course I couldn't be expected to let a hir— to let a boy kiss me. But I needn't have been so cross about it. I might have been more dignified. And I told him I just hated him. That wasn't true, but I s'pose he'll die thinking it is. Oh, dear me, what makes people say things they've got to be so sorry for afterwards?"
"I suppose if Peter d-d-dies he'll go to heaven anyhow," sobbed Cecily. "He's been real good all this summer, but he isn't a church member."
"He's a Presbyterian, you know," said Felicity reassuringly. Her tone expressed her conviction that that would carry Peter through if anything would.
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