"Oh. Has he gone?"
"No one knows. Patsy fed him and he went to sleep. What has happened since we cannot tell."
The girls then related the experiences of the morning, at which both Uncle John and Arthur looked solemn and uncomfortable. But Louise said calmly:
"I think Patsy was quite right. I wouldn't have dared such a thing myself, but I'm sure that boy needed a square meal more than anything. If he dies, that breakfast has merely hastened his end; but if he doesn't die it will do him good."
"There's another possibility," remarked Uncle John. "He may be suffering agonies with no one to help him."
Patsy's face was white as chalk. The last hour or two had brought her considerable anxiety and her uncle's horrible suggestion quite unnerved her. She stole away to the office and inquired the number of Mr. Jones' room. It was on the ground floor and easily reached by a passage. The girl tiptoed up to the door and putting her ear to the panel listened intently. A moment later a smile broke over her face; she chuckled delightedly and then turned and ran buck to her friends.
"He's snoring like a walrus!" she cried triumphantly.
"Are you sure they are not groans?" asked Arthur.
"Pah! Can't I recognize a snore when I hear it? And I'll bet it's the first sound sleep he's had in a month."
Mr. Merrick and Arthur went to the door of the boy's room to satisfy themselves that Patsy was not mistaken, and the regularity of the sounds quickly convinced them the girl was right. So they had a merry party at luncheon, calling Patsy "Doctor" with grave deference and telling her she had probably saved the life of A. Jones for a second time.