“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 angry that such falsehoods should be told about him, but if he should utter a word of objection he knew that there would be an explosion of wrath on the part of his guardian, and he remained silent.
The farmer’s wife was a simple-minded, kind-hearted woman, and though Tony did not look at all delicate, she never thought of questioning the statement of Rudolph. Indeed she was already revolving in her mind inviting the boy to sleep in the house. She was rather prejudiced in favor of Rudolph by his show of parental solicitude.
When supper was over, having in the meantime consulted her husband, she said to Rudolph: