“Tell him the whole truth, Arthur,” said his grandmother—“his health was too poor an' we hadn't any money.”
“Arthur,” said Quincy, “I am going to find a home for you in a sanatorium where you will have the treatment you need and the proper food to build you up. One of these days, if you can repay me, well and good. If not, I can afford to give it. Your voice may make your fortune some day. And, now, Mrs. Scates, I've got some work for you. Mrs. 'Zekiel Pettingill—”
“She that was Huldy Mason,” broke in Mrs. Scates, “she was just the nicest girl in town.”
“Yes,” assented Quincy, “she's going to have an addition to her family—”
“You don't say,” again interrupted Mrs. Scates. “Well, I've nussed a good many—”
“You misunderstand me,” said Quincy quickly. “Her Uncle Ike is coming to live with her, and she needs assistance in her work. You must go and see her at once.”
While she was gone, Quincy explained to Arthur the nature of his coming treatment; how he would have to virtually live out of doors daytimes and sleep with windows and doors open at night. “I will see that you have good warm clothes. I will pay for your board and treatment for a year, and give you money for such things as you may need.”
“I'll try hard to get well so I can repay you,” said Arthur.
“She says she'll take me,” cried Mrs. Scates, as she entered the room—“just as soon as I can come, and here's a big basket of apples and peaches, she sent you, and—” the poor woman was quite out of breath. “I met that minister, Mr. Gay, and he said he was coming up to see you, Arthur.”
“Did you ever go to Mr. Gay's church?” Quincy asked Mrs. Scates.