"In a house a little way out of the town—not a big house. Father says he lives as simply as any working man, and he has no wife or children to spend his money on."
"Why doesn't he spend it on himself, then?" Freddy inquired. "Why, if I were he, I'd do just as I pleased in every way; buy whatever I liked, and always be enjoying myself."
"Wouldn't you do anything for other people?" Edwin asked gravely.
"Oh, yes, of course," Freddy rejoined quickly, looking rather ashamed of his selfish speech.
"You've always plenty of money for all you want," Claude reminded his cousin. "Uncle Frederick gives you such a good allowance of pocket-money; much more than we get."
"Why don't you ask Uncle Jo for more?" Freddy questioned thoughtlessly.
"Because we know he can't afford to give us more," Edwin replied. "You see, he's not so well off as your father. Besides, you're an only child, and there are three of us."
"I never knew till I came to B— that Uncle Jo had so little money," Freddy candidly admitted. "I think being a doctor is very hard work."
"So it is," Edwin agreed; "and it's very sad work too. A lot of father's patients are so very poor, and I know he feels it dreadfully sometimes not being able to give them money when they want food and clothes to keep them warm more than medicine."
"I don't believe anyone is poor like that in the village at home," Freddy said reflectively; "at least, I never heard of anyone. But, if Uncle Jo's patients are so poor, how can they pay him?"