"I wish there were more like you, Mr. Hunter," said Dr. Pemberton. "There would be less suffering in the world. As to our little patient here, I have no doubt he will do well, and soon be on his legs again."
Indeed Mark was already looking better and feeling better. The rest which he had obtained during the day, and the refreshment he had just taken, were precisely what he needed. He soon fell asleep, and Richard and Fosdick, lighting the gas lamp on the centre-table, sat down to their evening studies.
In a few days Mark was decidedly better, but it was thought best that he should still keep the room. He liked it very well in the evening when Dick and Fosdick were at home, but he felt rather lonesome in the daytime. Richard Hunter thought of this one day, and said, "Can you read, Mark?"
"Yes," said the match boy.
"Who taught you? Not Mother Watson, surely."
"No, she couldn't read herself. It was my mother who taught me."
"I think I must get you two or three books of stories to read while we are away in the daytime."
"You are spending too much money for me, Mr Hunter."
"Remember I am your guardian, and it is my duty to take care of you."