“If you pay all your savings away, Titus, what will you do when you get well?”
“Go to work, ma’am. An’ I should do that anyways, whether I had any tin or no,” promptly replied the lad.
“But perhaps you might not be able to get work.”
“Oh, yes, I should, ma’am. I never was out’n it till I got sick. Ef I can’t get one sort o’ work I can get anudder. Yo’ see, ma’am, I can turn my han’ to ’mos’ anythin’ in the way o’ plain, hard work,” said the lad, with sublime self-reliance, and with unconscious heroism.
“Oh-h-h! Ain’t he possessed of common sense!” exclaimed Owlet in a rapture of admiration.
“I quite agree with you, my little owl,” said Roma as she arose to take leave of the boy, repeating her promise to send Tom with his money in the afternoon.
“Thanky, ma’am. I’ll be awful glad to see old Tom! I haven’t seen him since I have been in de hospital. I reckon Tom was too bashful to come an’ see me, ’mong so many strangers.”
“Very likely; but he will be glad to come when he has the excuse of being sent on an errand,” said Miss Fronde.
Before Roma left the hospital she spoke to both nurse and doctor, telling them that as she had permission to do so, she should take Titus Blair away on some evening, so as to have him ready to go with her party the next week.
When they reached Miss Fronde’s apartments at the Wesleyan they found that Owlet’s new outfit had arrived.