whether Walter would live or die. He was now reduced to a skeleton, and for days had known nobody and would touch nothing but water. Then came a change, and he sank into a natural sleep—the first he had experienced since being brought to the house.
When Walter opened his eyes the next morning, he gazed around him in bewilderment. He lay upon a rattan couch in the centre of a somewhat bare apartment. Close at hand was a window overlooking a sparkling river. From a distance came the calls of several children playing some game.
"Where am I?" he asked himself, and then called weakly, "Si!"
"You are bettair?" asked a voice beside him, and turning he saw a girl of twelve sitting there. Her name was Rosa, and she was a relative of Inez Garabella, from Manila, and could speak English fairly well.
"What did you say?" he questioned, still bewildered.
"I said you are bettair. You haf been sick—verra sick. My aunt, she bring you here, and we nurse you."
"Have I been sick? How long?"
