how much more should we who--who--oh, there are no words to tell it--my
heart is too full"--Mrs. Thornton smiled through tears. "Robert, you
said you would do anything."

"Yes, dear," Thornton answered gravely. "But what? We cannot do things
in a moment. If money--"

Madison shook his head.

"It's beyond money," he said. "Money is only a secondary consideration.
It's the needs of the place that are paramount. It's not so much the
bringing of people here--they will hear of what has taken place and will
come of their own accord, they will flock here in numbers as time goes
on. But then--what? What can be done with them in this little village?
For a time perhaps they could be accommodated--but after that they must
be turned away."

"Turned away!" exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, in a hurt cry. "Turned away from
hope--to bitterness and misery again! No, no, they must not I Why"--she
grasped her husband's arm agitatedly--"why couldn't we buy land and put
little houses upon it where they could stay?"

Madison leaned suddenly toward her.

"I believe you've hit on the idea, Mrs. Thornton," he said excitedly.
"Why not? It would be the finest thing that was ever done in the world.
But why not go further--this should not be a private enterprise with
the burden on the few." He turned abruptly to Mr. Thornton. "What a
monument from grateful hearts, what a tribute to that saintly soul a
huge sanatorium, built and properly endowed, would be! And it is