“Yes.” He was searching absently in his pocket. He drew out the bluish slip of paper with rough edge. He handed it to her gravely. “I couldn’t take that, my dear, you know.”
She put it aside on the table. “I thought you might not have money enough to come at once, and he needed you.”
“Yes, he needed me. He’s better.”
Her face lightened. The rays of color awoke and played in it. “You have cured him.”
“Well,”—Uncle William was judicious,—“I give him a pill.”
She laughed out. “He needed you,” she said.
“Did he?” Uncle William leaned forward. “I never had anybody need me—not really need me.” His tone confided it to her.
She looked back at him. “I should think every one would.”
He looked a little puzzled. “I dunno. But I see, from the way you wrote, that he did, so I come right along.”
“He will get well now.”