"Well, I'm afraid his income scarcely meets the requirements of his family, my dear. He did not actually say so, but I gleaned as much."
"I am very sorry for him, poor man," said Mrs. Reed, her voice full of sympathy, "and for his wife, too."
The doctor looked thoughtfully into the fire, and for a few minutes there was silence, then Ann asked:—
"Isn't there anything you can do to help Mr. Wyndham, father?"
"That's what I've been wondering, Ann," he replied.
"You couldn't give him money or—if he would not like that—lend it to him?"
"N-o-o. He did not tell me he was in need of monetary help. But, perhaps, I—we might help him in some other way."
"We?" Mrs. Reed said interrogatively. "What is in your mind, Andrew? Let us hear."
"Well, my dear, Wyndham confided to me that he is rather troubled about Ruth, his eldest girl. She is to leave the school, which she now attends with her sisters, at Christmas—it is only a school for young girls it appears—and he would like to send her to a thoroughly good boarding-school for a couple of years if he could hear of one where the terms are 'very reasonable' as he expressed it; and I've been thinking how it would be to have Ruth here—she would be a capital companion for Ann—and let her complete her education at Helmsford College. Of course we should undertake to pay her school fees and in every way provide for her as long as she remains with us."
"Oh, father, how clever of you to think of that!" Ann cried excitedly; "I call it a splendid plan! We should be sure to become great friends, as she is about my age. It would be like having a sister almost. Oh, do you think her mother and father would let her come?"