"Oh, well, I'll have to keep it to myself, then," and the girl gave a
sigh of disappointment. "I was hoping that you would promise, for it
would be so nice to relieve my mind by telling some one."

"Maybe I'll promise afterwards," Rod replied.

"That might do," Whyn mused, as she lay very still and looked far off
through the window. "Yes, I guess that will do. You see, I once heard
the doctor in the city say that I must go to a specialist, and maybe he
could cure me."

"What's a specialist?" Rod questioned. "I never heard of it before."

"It's a doctor in some big city like New York, who knows so much. He
might be able to make me better, if I could only go to see him."

"Why don't you go, then?"

"I can't," and a slight shade passed over the girl's sunny face. "It
takes a lot of money, and we are poor. Mamma plays the organ in St.
Barnabas Church on Sundays, and gives music lessons through the week.
But it takes so much to pay doctor bills."

"Where's your father?" Rod asked.

"He's dead. He died when I was a little baby."

"Oh!" Rod was all sympathy now. So this girl was an orphan, something
like himself, with a mother but no father.