"He is well grown of his age."
"Yes; he will make a good-sized man. He's been sick."
"Has he? What has been the matter?"
"I don't know. Poor folks like us can't call in a doctor."
"He don't look sick," said the farmer's wife, thoughtfully.
"He's delicate, though he don't look it. It's sleeping out in the open air, I expect."
"Do you have to sleep out in the open air?"
"Yes; we can't afford to pay for lodgings, and people won't take us into their houses. I don't mind myself—I'm tough—but Tony can't stand it as well as I can."
While this conversation was going on, Tony fixed his eyes upon his plate. He was annoyed to have such falsehoods told about him; but if he should utter a word of objection he knew there would be an explosion of wrath on the part of his guardian, and he remained silent.