“You must feel happy, Frank,” cried Ruth, who came into the hall to greet him.
“I do feel happy.”
“Then you got an agency for those books?”
“I did more, Ruth—I’ve sold some of the books.”
“Good for you!”
The family had already eaten supper, but a generous portion had been saved for our hero.
“Here’s a chicken I brought from Bardon,” said Frank. “I bought it from a man because he bought a book from me,” he explained.
“It is a nice fowl,” answered his mother, after an examination. “So you got your books and have begun to sell them? You were fortunate.”
“Let’s go up to father’s room, and I’ll tell you all about it, mother.”
The whole family gathered in the patient’s room to hear what Frank might have to say. Mr. Hardy was now able to move around the room a little bit, but could not go downstairs.