"Wa'al, your aunt's as well as she can expect to be," remarked Mr. Larabee. "She suffers consid'able from stomach misery, and the doctor don't seem to do her no good. He charges enough too, and he's allers changin' the medicine. I should think he could take one kind and stick to it."
"He has to try different kinds to see what is the best," suggested Dick.
"I know, but you ought to see the bottles, only half-took, that I have to throw away. I tried to git a rebate on 'em, but the druggist said he couldn't use 'em. So I'm that much out," and Mr. Larabee drew a deep sigh.
"Any news from home, Dick?" asked Paul, as the three sat alone in the mess hall, at a special table for visitors. "How is your father?"
"By Jove! I forgot to read the letter!" exclaimed Dick, pulling it from his pocket. "Excuse me while I look at it," and he ripped open the envelope.
CHAPTER III GOOD NEWS
"Will you have some more of this roast beef, Mr. Larabee?" asked Paul, doing the honors for Dick, who was busy over the letter from his father.
"Wa'al, I might have a bit more. It seems like pretty tender meat."