“No”—the tone was soothing—“but I can get it, mebbe. She wants me to come down.”
“To New York? You!” Andy looked at him.
William returned the look apologetically. “Does sound ridiculous, don’t it, Andy? I shouldn’t ever ’a’ thought of the thing myself, but she says he kind o’ needs me. Keeps askin’ for me when the fever is on, and don’t seem to get along much when it lets up. She kind o’ thinks if I was there, it would help him to brace up, somehow, a little.”
Andy made no response. The green light was dawning far down in his eye.
Uncle William watched it. “It’s jest a sick man’s fancy, like enough.”
“When you goin’?” said Andy.
“I though ’bout day after to-morrow.”
“It’ll cost a heap.”
“I know it.”
“You’ve got it, I s’pose?” indifferently.