y
haven't let folks in there this week," finished Jill, her eyes big with
terror.

"The Glaspells? But what was David doing down there?"

"Why, you know,--he told us once,--teaching Joe to play. He's been
there lots. Joe is blind, you know, and can't see, but he just loves
music, and was crazy over David's violin; so David took down his other
one--the one that was his father's, you know--and showed him how to
pick out little tunes, just to take up his time so he wouldn't mind so
much that he couldn't see. Now, Jack, wasn't that just like David?
Jack, I can't have anything happen to David!"

"No, dear, no; of course not! I'm afraid we can't any of us, for that
matter," sighed Jack, his forehead drawn into anxious lines. "I'll go
down to the Hollys', Jill, the first thing tomorrow morning, and see
how he is and if there's anything we can do. Meanwhile, don't take it
too much to heart, dear. It may not be half so bad as you think.
School-children always get things like that exaggerated, you must
remember," he finished, speaking with a lightness that he did not feel.

To himself the man owned that he was troubled, seriously troubled. He
had to admit that Jill's story bore the earmarks of truth; and
overwhelmingly he realized now just how big a place this somewhat
puzzling small boy had come to fill in his own heart. He did not need
Jill's anxious "Now, hurry, Jack," the next morning to start him off in
all haste for the Holly farmhouse. A dozen rods from the driveway he
met Perry Larson and stopped him abruptly.

"Good morning, Larson; I hope this isn't true--what I hear--that David
is very ill."

Larson pulled off his hat and with his free hand sought the one
particular spot on his head to which he always appealed when he was
very much troubled.

"Well, yes, sir, I'm afraid 't is, Mr. Jack--er--Mr. Gurnsey, I mean.
He is turrible sick, poor little chap, an' it's too bad--that's what it
is--too bad!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I hoped the report was exaggerated. I came down to see
if--if there wasn't something I could do."

"Well, 'course you can ask--there ain't no law ag'in' that; an' ye
needn't be afraid, neither. The report has got 'round that it's
ketchin'--what he's got, and that he got it down to the Glaspells'; but
't ain't so. The doctor says he didn't ketch nothin', an' he can't give
nothin'. It's his head an' brain that ain't right, an' he's got a
mighty bad fever. He's been kind of flighty an' nervous, anyhow,