She looked at him again. "If I were you, Mr. Dalton, I'd go home and feel pretty big and strong and well, and I'd hope pretty hard."
He looked at her, bewildered.
She was on her feet. She ran her eye over his face and person. "I'd wear the cleanest, freshest clothes I could get, and I'd look so 'twould do her good just to set eyes on me."
He flushed under the two days' growth of beard and ran his hand awkwardly across his chin. "But they won't let me see her?" he said.
"Well, I don't know," responded Aunt Jane. "It'll do her good—whether she sees you or not," she added energetically.
He rose with a smile, holding out his hand. "I believe you're right," he said. "It gives me something to do, anyway, and that's worth a good deal."
"Yes, it's something to do," she responded, "and I don't suppose any of us knows just what cures folks."
"Could I see her to-morrow, perhaps?" he asked, watching her face.
She shook her head emphatically. "Not till I think best," she replied with decision.