“Oh! can I, ma’am? Oh! won’t that be just glorious!”
“I hope it will do you good. I expect to leave on next Saturday. Have you clothes enough, my boy? Or have you lost them during your illness?”
“I have some underclo’es here, ma’am, an’ this suit wot I’m a-wearin’ ob now; an’ I’ve got a Sunday suit in my ole garret loft at the Vesleyan, ma’am,” said the boy, with some pride in his poor wardrobe.
“Yes, I know you had very nice clothes when you ran the elevator. You were always very neat.”
“Had to be, ma’am, an’ it took ’mos’ all my wages fo’ to keep me so; but ef I hadn’t been I’d ’a’ lost my place, sure as a gun.”
“Have you any money left, my boy?”
“Just a dollar ’n eighty cents, ma’am, an’ I’m thinkin’ as I ought to pay that to the hospital, ma’am. It aine much to offer ’em fo’ all dey don’ fo’ me, but it’s ev’ry cen’ I have, an’ I think I ought ter offer it ter ’em. What do yo’ think, ma’am?”
“I think you are quite right, and you might offer it to the hospital,” said Miss Fronde, who was much too wise to discourage a boy in his impulse of justice or generosity, from any mistaken kindness to him.
“Mrs. Brown has got it keepin’ fo’ me. Will yo’ please ask her to send it ter me, so I kin give it ter ’em?”
“Certainly; and I will send it over by Tom this afternoon,” Roma replied. Then, wishing to test the boy further, she inquired: