Then the doctor turned to the window, and seemed to glance over towards the woods.
"Quite winterish, isn't it? When have you heard from Joe?"
"Not in a long time. Letters do not come so regularly as they used. I think we have not had one since August. But he writes whenever he can, dear Joe. The last time we received three."
"Yes," in a kind of absent way.
When Dr. Meade started to go, he kept his hand for several minutes on the door-latch, giving some unimportant directions.
"God bless you, Hal!" he said in a strained, husky tone, "and give you grace to bear all the trials of this life. Heaven knows, there are enough of them!"
What did the doctor mean? Hal wondered eagerly.
That evening Mr. and Mrs. Terry dropped in for a friendly call.
"When did you hear from Joe last?" asked Mr. Terry.
"In August."