Andrew was inexpressibly relieved when he reached home to find that the dressmaker was gone, and Fanny, having sent Amabel to bed, was chiefly anxious to know how her sister had reached the asylum. It was not until the latter part of the evening that she brought up the subject of the bank. “Do look out to-morrow, Andrew Brewster, and be sure to take that money out of the bank to pay Miss Higgins,” she said. “As for being dunned again by that woman, I won't! It's the last time I'll ever have her, anyway. As far as that is concerned, all the money will have to come out of the bank if poor Eva is to be kept where she is. How much money was there that she had?”
“Just fifty-two dollars and seventy cents,” replied Andrew. “Jim had left a little that he'd scraped together somehow, with the letter he wrote to her, and he told her if he had work he'd send her more.”
“I'd die before I'd touch it,” said Fanny, fiercely. Then she looked at Andrew with sudden pity. “Poor old man,” she said; “it's mighty hard on you when you're gettin' older, and you never say a word to complain. But I don't see any other way than to take that money, do you?”
“No,” said Andrew.
“And you don't think I'm hard to ask it, Andrew?”
“No.”
“God knows if it was your sister and my money, I would take every dollar. You know I would, Andrew.”
“Yes, I know,” replied Andrew, hoarsely.
“Mebbe she'll get better before it's quite gone,” said Fanny. “You say the doctor gave some hope?”
“Yes, he did, if she was taken proper care of.”