“Is he your only child?” the girl asked.
“No, I have another boy, much older. He is big and strong and handsome and can take care of himself and his mother,” she explained with pride. “But he is young and is working his way through college. His pay is small and he has had some bad luck, but he is a joy and happiness in my life.”
Virginia watched the woman as if fascinated.
Thought for the comfort of her callers returned with composure to the mother of Charles Augustus. “My dear,” she said kindly, “I suppose that you are in Maine for a vacation. You don’t look like a native. It’s a shame for me to spoil this beautiful afternoon for you with my tears and troubles. I am nervous and overwrought. I had wonderful news yesterday. News which may make me glad all of the rest of my days or make me always sad.”
“Please tell me about it,” begged Virginia.
The woman yielded to the girl’s entreaties and explained that, on the previous day, Charles Augustus had been taken to a physician in Old Rock because of some infantile disease. After treating the boy, the doctor had examined his leg with great interest. Hunting up a copy of a recent medical journal he had shown the mother a description of an operation for a similar case in a New York hospital. It had resulted in the complete recovery of the use of a crippled limb. “That boy’s leg could be cured if we could get him on an operating table before he is too old,” the doctor had declared with confidence.
The news of the possibility of her son’s cure had filled Charles Augustus’s mother with joy; but her inability to raise the money for such an operation had almost driven her frantic.
When she ended, Virginia took hold of her hands. “Won’t you let me help you?” she begged softly. “There must be a way to do it and I should like to, for–” she hesitated a moment and then–“the sake of Charles Augustus.”
The woman looked into the girl’s eyes. She found a sweetness there which appealed to her. “I would have no right to refuse any help which would rid my boy of that crutch,” she answered.
At the door Virginia glanced back. “Charles Augustus’s crutch would make nice kindling wood,” she called. “A motorcycle would be much nicer for him.”