“I have brought a friend,” said he to the mistress of the house. “He will share my room, and I will be responsible for him.”
“He looks sick,” said the woman gravely. “I hope you realise what you are undertaking?”
John thought he “realised” it, but he did not. It would have made no difference, however, if he had. His new friend tossed and muttered all night, and in the morning was unable to raise his head from the pillow, and that was but the beginning. Many days passed before he was able to do so. He was light-headed much of the time, and uttered a great many names, some of them angrily enough, and some of them with love and longing unspeakable. It was, “Oh! mother! mother!” Or, “Oh! Allie! Allie! where are you gone?” through the whole of one painful night when he was at the worst, till the dawn brought sleep at last, and a respite.
He grew better after a while, and the visits of the doctor ceased, but his strength came slowly and his spirits failed him often. The house in which they lodged stood near the water’s edge. The heat was great in the middle of the day, and at night the wind which came from the lake was damp and chill. John saw that a change of place was needed, and he would fain have carried him away to get the fresh air of the country.
“A change is what he needs. We can manage it for a day now and then, to get somewhere,” said John to himself; “and then—I must to work again.”
He knew, or he supposed, that if he applied to Mr Hadden, who had the reputation of being a rich man who did much good with his money, all would be made easy to this stranger; but he himself had the best right to have the pleasure of helping Allison’s brother; and he said to himself:
“I’ll bide a wee. He has not mentioned Mr Hadden’s name, nor his own, for that matter. Yes, I’ll bide a wee, and we’ll manage it in some way.”