"He comes of good stock back about the time of the Revolution. Running to seed since. It's mighty odd how blood bursts out now and again. This fellow's mother came from The Forge—a pretty creature—died when he was born. Took me thirty-six hours to bring him into life—but I couldn't save the mother. The father is a degenerate—the only sign of decency I ever noticed in him is his thought about this boy. Looks like a tussle for Sandy Morley now, I reckon. What you want to do about it? If he lives, which he likely enough won't, he's going to be a right smart bit of care."
Levi looked at Matilda and Matilda looked at Levi, and then they both looked at Sandy. "Massachusetts!" moaned the boy, tossing about restlessly—"I'm going to get there, I tell you! Mass—massa—chu——" The voice trailed off miserably and Bob was alert at once.
"I never cast a beast out——" began Levi.
"Not to mention a human boy," added Matilda.
"We're going to see him through or—out, doctor."
The impassive face of the doctor gave no intimation as to his emotions. He took out his medicine bottles and forthwith began to complicate Sandy's chances in the hand-to-hand struggle.
An old black woman, famed for her charms and nursing, was secured by Matilda Markham to assist in the care of Sandy Morley.
"I shall keep an eye on the witch," Matilda warned her brother, "but she has a sense about nursing that can be relied upon."
And so the battle was on. Gossip about the boy was killed at the bedroom door. No one became interested or cared. The doctor, after a week or two, chancing upon Martin Morley on The Way, told him of Sandy's good fortune.
"Morley, if there's a bit of the man in you," he advised, "let go that boy and leave him to his opportunity. You've almost killed him, body and soul, among you, now; whether it be life or death, let him have a try for the clean thing. It's all you can do for him—forget him!"