“I am afraid you can’t do much,” said Dr. Menter, frankly, as Rob concluded. “You do not seem to have anything to work with. Besides, I should judge that you must all have a very slight idea of getting a living in the country. You say you want to cultivate the land at Break o’ Day. What do you know about taking care of crops?”
Rob had to confess that he and his associates knew nothing. In fact, he realized more than he had ever before the peculiar helplessness of himself and companions.
“The best thing you can do is to go back to the city,” said the doctor.
“We haven’t the money to do it,” acknowledged Rob. “All together, we cannot raise a dime.”
The doctor whistled.
“How do you think you are going to live here? Had the deacon promised you any money?”
“No, sir; but he thought we could get work. We are willing to try our best.”
“It would be surprising if you all felt that way. I should judge a crowd picked up in the way yours was would have at least some who would be deadheads on the hands of the others. You say there are several among you who are unable to work if they wished?”
“Two,” faltered Rob, for the first time losing courage. Somehow the candid words of Dr. Menter struck to his heart as nothing said by others had done.
“Do you know what I think?”