“But, Paul, dear, I wouldn’t want to take the little you have. You’ve no more than enough for yourself.”
“I will show you something, Mrs. Hogan, if you won’t let Jerry know.”
“Shure I won’t.”
Paul produced the hundred dollar bill, and filled the soul of Mrs. Hogan with amazement.
“Where did you get it?” she asked, in wonder.
“It was given me by a gentleman whom I saved from being robbed of a good deal more,” he answered. “You see, Mrs. Hogan, I am not so poor as you suppose. I will pay you seven dollars a week, if that will satisfy you, for your care of Jerry, but I will try to get him to repay me the money, for his life depends on what we are able to do for him.”
The doctor, upon Mrs. Hogan’s acceptance of the office of nurse, gave her instructions. To begin with, though late, he directed that some tea and oatmeal should be prepared and administered to his patient to reinforce his failing strength.
It was nearly one o’clock when Paul threw himself down on the lounge with his clothes on, and fell into a sound sleep.
Old Jerry did not immediately improve. His strength was so far reduced that it required time to rebuild his enfeebled constitution. Mrs. Hogan proved a good nurse. Indeed, in her younger days she had acted in that capacity, and was not ignorant of the duties.