“But here am I,” continued the speaker. “Is it just to me for you to hide away here in want that forces you and your wife—I beg your pardon, madam—into mortifying occupations, when one word to me—a trivial obligation, not worthy to be called an obligation, contracted with me—would remove that necessity, and tide you over the emergency of the hour?”
Richling was already answering, not by words only, but by his confident smile:—
“Yes, sir; yes, it is just: ask Mary.”
“Yes, Doctor,” interposed the wife. “We went over”—
“We went over it together,” said John. “We weighed it well. It is just,—not to ask aid as long as there’s hope without it.”
The Doctor responded with the quiet air of one who is sure of his position:—
“Yes, I see. But, of course—I know without asking—you left the question of health out of your reckoning. Now, Richling, put the whole world, if you choose, in a selfish attitude”—
“No, no,” said Richling and his wife. “Ah, no!” But the Doctor persisted.
“—a purely selfish attitude. Wouldn’t it, nevertheless, rather help a well man or woman than a sick one? Wouldn’t it pay better?”
“Yes, but”—