“Well, well, woman, let’s hear and get to the core o’ the matter,” said John O’More, tired of the continual word warfare.
“He’s to have a real bed and no shake-down, so’s he can stretch out and roll about, and it’s to be in a room opening to the light where he can lie quieter by himself an hour or so every day. Then he’s to get a full bath every morning and a light meal, and fresh meat at noon, and a bite and sup between that at supper, and the between times filled in with air and a bottle o’ tonic, and the saints knows what else.
“‘Do yer think I keep a ’ospital to do all them things,’ sez I to the doctor.
“‘No,’ he answers quick like, ‘and for that reason I think it will pay you best to send him to the ’ospital to get him built up.’
“‘His father will not hear to it,’ I said.
“‘Very well, then,’ said he, ‘you know what I think; go home and talk it over.’”
So John O’More sat and thought and blinked at the ground, and thought some more, but it was Bird who first spoke, though very hesitatingly, for her aunt resented almost everything she said, and in her ignorance and prejudice seemed to owe poor Bird a grudge as being partially responsible for Tom’s arrest, rather than showing any gratitude toward her for trying to prevent the theft of the money.
“Couldn’t Billy have a bed in the little room that was—that is shut up?” she asked finally. “The door is close to the kitchen window, and a good deal of air would come in.”
“It’s packed solid full, and besides the room is off from me, so’s I couldn’t hear the child to tend him in the night if needs,” objected Mrs. O’More, somewhat hotly.
“Couldn’t the things be put in the attic or somewhere?” persisted Bird, seeing a flash of approval cross her uncle’s face, “and then there would be room for two beds, and I could stay with Billy and give him his bath every morning.”