“Sit down,” said Doctor Stevens as he took a chair beside Hugh Blair’s bed.
Tom was about to ask his father how he felt, when Doctor Stevens spoke again.
“We might as well face this thing together,” he said. “I’ll tell you now that it is going to be something of a fight for all of you, but unless I’m mistaken, the Blairs are all real fighters.”
“What’s the matter Doctor Stevens?” Helen’s voice was low and strained.
“Your father must take a thorough rest,” he said. “He will have to go to some southwestern state for a number of months. Perhaps it will only take six months, but it may be longer.”
“But I can’t be away that long,” protested Hugh Blair. “I must think of my family, of the Herald.”
“Your family must think of you now,” said Doctor Stevens firmly. “That’s why I wanted to talk this over with Tom and Helen.”
“Just what is wrong, Dad?” asked Tom.
Doctor Stevens answered the question.
“Lung trouble,” he said quietly. “Your father has spent too many years bent over his desk in that dark cubbyhole of his—too many years without a vacation. Now he’s got to give that up and devote a number of months to building up his body again.”