“I only ran over for a minute; I've got some work to do,” muttered Jerome, and went out.
He went along the ridgy cart-path across the field to the road, but when he reached it he stopped short. He stood for ten minutes or more, motionless, thinking so intently that it was as if his body stood aside from his swift thought, then he returned to the Judd house.
He went around to the back door, but when he reached it he stopped again. After a little he crept noiselessly back to the cart-path, and so to the road again.
But it was as if, when he reached the road, he met some unseen and mighty arm of denial which barred it. He stopped there for the second time. Then he went back again to the Judd house, and this time when he reached the door he opened it and went in.
When he entered the sitting-room, where Adoniram and Paulina Maria and Henry were, they all looked up in astonishment.
“Forgot anything?” inquired Adoniram.
“Yes,” replied Jerome. Then he went on, speaking fast, in a strained voice, which he tried hard to make casual. “There was something I wanted to say. I've been thinking about Henry's eyes. If—you want to take him to Boston, to that doctor, I've got the money. I've got five hundred dollars you're welcome to. I believe you said it would take that.” He looked straight at Paulina Maria as he spoke, and she dropped her work and looked at him.
Adoniram made a faint, gasping noise, then sat staring at them both. Henry started, but knitted on as remorselessly as his own fate.
“How did you come by so much money?” asked Paulina Maria, in her pure, severe voice.
“I saved if from my earnings.”