“It’s the expense I am thinking of, Mr. Morris. You know I have lost my situation, and mother has no shoes to bind.”
“I can help you, Chester. A rich lady of my acquaintance sends me a hundred dollars every year to bestow in charity. I will devote a part of this to the young man whom you have so kindly taken in, say at the rate of eight dollars a week.”
“That will make us feel easy,” said Chester gratefully. “How much do you think his uncle offered me?”
“I am surprised that he should have offered anything.”
“He handed me twenty-five cents, but I told him I thought we could get along without it.”
“And you will. Silas Tripp has a small soul, hardly worth saving. He has made money his god, and serves his chosen deity faithfully.”
“I wouldn’t change places with him for all his wealth.”
“Some day you may be as rich as he, but I hope, if you are, you will use your wealth better.”
At the beginning of the third week Walter Bruce became suddenly worse. His constitution was fragile, and the disease had undermined his strength. The doctor looked grave.
“Do you think I shall pull through, doctor?” asked the young man.