"None, but that of giving up the little money they have left in the bank," said Matt, forlornly.
"Well," Mrs. Hilary commented with a sort of magisterial authority, "they've all managed as badly as they could."
"Well, mother, they hadn't a very hopeful case, to begin with," said Matt, and Louise smiled.
"I suppose your poor father is worried almost to death about it," Mrs. Hilary pursued.
"He was annoyed, but I couldn't see that he had lost his appetite. I don't think that even his worriment is the first thing to be considered, though."
"No; of course not, Matt. I was merely trying to think. I don't know just what we can offer to do; but we must find out. Yes, we must go and see them. They don't seem to have any one else. It is very strange that they should have no relations they can go to!" Mrs. Hilary meditated upon a hardship which she seemed to find personal. "Well, we must try what we can do," she said relentingly, after a moment's pause.
They talked the question of what she could do futilely over, and at the end Mrs. Hilary said, "I will go there in the morning. And I think I shall go from there to Boston, and try to get your father off to the shore."
"Oh!" said Louise.
"Yes; I don't like his being in town so late."
"Poor papa! Did he look very much wasted away, Matt? Why don't you get him to come up here?"