"But you cannot. You are not able to lift your right arm at all, and you are so weak you could not stand up. Do be patient, and not think at all of the shop."
"I must do as you bid me now, Maggie."
"Then don't think of the shop, or anything but our nice little home, where we have always been so happy."
"How shall we pay the rent if I lie here? Where will you get food to eat and clothes to wear?" demanded André, with something like a shudder of his paralyzed frame.
"Don't think of those things."
"I must. I was wicked not to save up some money."
"No, you were not wicked; you were always as good as you could be. The good God will take care of us."
"They will send us all to the almshouse."
"No, no; Leo is going to make heaps of money!" replied Maggie, though she had not much confidence in her brother's brilliant scheme, or even in the inventions that reposed in his active brain. "Can't you go to sleep again, mon père?"
"I will try," replied he, meekly. "I will if you go to bed, and sleep. What should I do if you were sick?"