"And you never come up when I am at home?"
"It isn't every time I can get to go up, I'm that busy here most days."
"Only the days when I am absent can you 'get to go up'?" he would say teasingly. "Don't I ever deserve a visit?"
"Cass don't get time fer visitin' these days. Since Frale lef' she have all his work an' hern too on her, an' mine too, only the leetle help she gets out'n Hoyle, an' hit hain't much," said the mother. "Doctah, don't ye guess I can get up an' try walkin' a leetle?"
"If you will promise me you will only try it when I am here to help you, I will take off the weight, and we'll see what you can do to-day."
Cassandra loved to watch David attend on her mother, so tender was he; and he adopted a playful manner that always dispelled her pessimism and left her smiling and talkative. Ere he was aware, also, he made a place for himself In Cassandra's heart when he became interested in the case of her little brother, and attempted gradually to overcome his deformity.
Every morning when the child climbed to his eyrie and brought his supply of milk, David took him in and gently, out of his knowledge and skill, gave him systematic care, and taught him how to help himself; but he soon saw that a more strenuous course would be the only way to bring permanent relief, or surely the trouble would increase.
"What did Doctor Hoyle say about it?" he asked one day.
"He wa'n't that-a-way when doctah war here last. Hit war nigh on five year ago that come on him. He had fevah, an' a right smart o' times when we thought he war a-gettin' bettah he jes' went back, ontwell he began to kind o' draw sideways this-a-way, an' he hain't nevah been straight sence, an' he has been that sickly, too. When doctah saw him last, he war nigh three year old an' straight as they make 'em, an' fat—you couldn't see a bone in him."
David pondered a moment. "Suppose you give him to me awhile," he said. "Let him live with me in my cabin—eat there, sleep there—everything, and we'll see what can be done for him."