The vanity was so unconscious and childish that it ceased to be offensive.
I began to feel an interest in these boys, but most in the poor overworked mother. I had picked up, in my scrambling life, enough knowledge of medicine to judge of her case. The next morning, after consulting Matthew, I made a thorough examination into the cause of her disease. Matt waited outside. When I came out to him, his face was pale, and he bit and moistened his dry lips unceasingly.
"Your mother must leave this place. The work and the fogs from these swamps are killing her. Dry air and rest would effect a cure, I believe."
He stood paler than before, but not speaking a word.
"You think it impossible, Matthew?" I said, gently.
It troubled me to see the grave, stern look on the merry face, which never had been there before. I fully explained my reasons for judging as I did, knowing him to be reasonable and acute beyond his years. I offered to do what I could, in my poor way.
"It is only due from one man to another, Matthew."
"No, this is for mother, Mr. Humphreys; I must take care of mother myself,"--standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Abel had come up, and listened like a frightened woman, the muscles of his face working, tears in his light-blue eyes.
"Cheer up, Abe," said the younger boy, heartily; "I've thought of a plan."
"There's one way, Matthew," said Abel, eagerly. "If only"----
"No, none of that!"--sternly. "We've had enough of waitin' for an 'if.' We'll help ourselves now."
An hour after, I saw him lock up his shed as if he had done with it, and presently come out of the house with his face washed and his shoes on, and take his way across the fields.
That afternoon, at the mound, Doctor Peters, the owner of the farm, began a conversation with me about the Steadmans.
"It was the ruin of the old man," he said, "waiting for his rights. It kept him a loafer all his life. What little he made was by digging, just enough to hold body and soul together, hoping Mrs. C---- would not hold out another year. But there's no die in her."
"Yes, yon's her place. The way of it was this. She was a Fawcett,--Betty Fawcett: I've heard my grandfather talk of her. Her first husband was a Colonel Shepler."
