"But, Uncle Richard—"
"Well?"
"Dirk's child is sick,—dying, I'm afraid!"
"So are hundreds in this world. There's misery everywhere."
"Perhaps I might aid this misery, Uncle Richard, if you'll let me try. Will you?"
"You will have more than your hands full if you are going to look after these Culm people," said Trafford, coldly; "you had better not begin."
Noll's face grew graver and graver, and he made no reply to his uncle's last remark.
"Well," said Trafford, after a long silence, "do you wish anything more, Noll?"
The boy turned away, as if hurt by his uncle's coldness, and walked quickly to the library door. There he wavered—stopped—then turned about, and came back.
"Uncle Richard," said he, tremulously, "papa said I was to do all the good I could in the world, and never pass by any trouble that I might help, and—and I think he would tell me to go to Dirk's, if he were here."