, too."

"Why, isn't your father working?"

"Not to-day. He has been working in a damp cellar and that brought on
his old complaint, rheumatism. He suffers something awful with it. He
ought to have a long rest."

"He certainly ought not to work in a cellar."

"He has already told his boss he couldn't go at it again," answered
Randy.

"Have you had a doctor?"

"Yes, Doctor Case came this morning."

"What does he say?"

"He says rheumatism is hard to cure and that my father will have to
take care of himself," answered Randy. "But I must go on now," he
added. "I must get some things for mother at the store."

What Randy said about his father was true. Louis Thompson was suffering
very much. He rested on a couch in the sitting room of the cottage, and
his wife did what she could to relieve his pain.

Several days passed and the rheumatism, instead of growing better,
became worse, so that neither Mrs. Thompson nor Randy knew what to do
for the sufferer. Then Mr. Thompson's side began to draw up, and in
haste a specialist from the city was called in. He gave some relief,
but said it would be a long time before the sufferer would be able to
go to work again.

"You must keep off your left leg," said the specialist.

A few days after that Louis Thompson tried to walk. But the pain was so
great he could not stand on the rheumatic limb. He sank on his couch
with a groan.

"I cannot do it," he gasped.

"Then do not try," answered his wife.

"But I must get to work, Lucy. I cannot afford to be idle."

"Never mind, Louis; we will get along somehow."

"How much did that specialist charge?"

"Fifty dollars?"

"And what was Doctor Case's bill?"

"Ten dollars."

"Sixty dollars! And we had only ninety dollars in the bank! That leaves
us only thirty dollars."

To this Mrs. Thompson did not answer. She had used up nearly ten
dollars for medicines, but did not wish to worry her suffering husband
by mentioning it.

"If I don't go to work we'll all starve to death!" continued Louis
Thompson.

"We'll manage somehow," answered the wife, bravely.

Nevertheless, she was much discouraged, and that evening, when her
husband was asleep, she and Randy talked the matter over as they sat on
the porch in the darkness.

"Mother," said Randy, earnestly, "I don't want you to feel troubled.
You have labored so long for me that it is now my turn. I only want
something to do."

"My dear child," said the mother, "I do not