Elmer, big and strong, who never had known a sick day in all his life, could still feel for a boy who had not enjoyed such robust health.
“Couldn’t do anything better than to live out-of-doors all you can, Asa,” he went on to say. “They’ve found that fresh air is the best thing going for weak lungs. In fact they’ve stopped giving medicine, and just keep patients in the sunshine and the air all the day, as well as get them to sleep in the open too.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing for a year now,” continued the other, eagerly. “I have a sleeping porch alongside my room, and all last winter I never spent even one night indoors.”
Elmer looked at him with more respect on hearing this.
“And we had several big blizzards at that,” he remarked. “Then you must be in good trim for camping, because you’re used to the night air. But we’re all of us a heap glad we are really going so far away from home, though we’ll miss our moth——”
Elmer stopped suddenly, because he remembered that Asa had lost his mother. He saw the other turn white and gulp hard; but as Elmer walked away just then nothing further was said on the subject.
The boys found it hard to separate that night, there was so much to talk over. Suggestions were made of every kind as to what supplies they ought to take with them and whether this or that would be the right thing.
“Before we leave here, boys,” said Dick as they prepared finally to depart, “it strikes me it would be only fair to give three cheers for Mr. Nocker, one of the best friends the boys of Cliffwood ever had. That is, if Mr. Bartlett doesn’t object.”
The cheers were given with a will, and as the windows of the room were open the man, who happened to be passing, could plainly hear his name mentioned with hearty vigor as the score of lusty voices rang out. And Deacon Nocker felt a warmth in his heart as he listened, such as that organ had never known before.