“I don’t know that I ever ran across a case just like this,” X-Ray remarked, as he turned on Phil.
“You mean that while you’ve met people who were deaf and dumb you never saw one who was what they call tongue-tied; is that it, X-Ray?” the latter asked.
“Yes, you’ve got it straight, Phil; but tell me, is this sort of thing incurable?”
“It all depends on the conditions,” was the reply. “Some are afflicted worse than others; and then again I believe that if it’s taken in hand at an early stage there’s much more chance of the operation being successful than if it becomes an old affliction.”
“But my stars, why haven’t the parents of this fine little chap looked after it before now?” demanded Ethan.
“Well, when you’re saying that, just stop and think what you’re up against,” Phil told him. “We’re not down in New York City, where paid doctors visit the poorer sections, and there are wards in all hospitals where such operations can be undertaken free of expense. This is away up in the wilds of Canada.”
“Like as not,” interrupted Lub, “his folks never dreamed that any remedy could be found to help him get his speech. I reckon now his mammy has grieved her heart sore many a time wondering what would become of a boy growing up to manhood who’d never be able to say a single intelligible word.”
“Yes,” added Ethan, bent on entering another wedge to the debate, “and money has a heap to do with these things, even if they did know. It costs considerable to send a boy all the way down to Montreal, and keep him there, not to speak of the doctor’s big fee.”
Phil looked grave, and then a smile began to slowly creep athwart his face. This was discovered by the sharp-eyed X-Ray, for he quickly demanded an explanation.
“You’ve thought of something, Phil; that look gives you away. Now speak up and confide in your chums. We’re all just as much interested in this queer business as you can be, I want you to remember. What’s caught you?”