"We won't judge him, Paul. Have you fixed upon any time to go?"

"I shall wait a few days till I get stronger. Can you tell me how far it
is to New York?"

"O, a great distance; a hundred miles at least. You can't think of going
so far as that?"

"I think it would be the best plan," said Paul. "In a great city like
New York there must be a great many things to do which I can't do here.
I don't feel strong enough to work on a farm. Besides, I don't like it.
O, it must be a fine thing to live in a great city. Then too," pursued
Paul, his face lighting up with the hopeful confidence of youth, "I
may become rich. If I do, Aunt Lucy, I will build a fine house, and you
shall come and live with me."

Aunt Lucy had seen more of life than Paul, and was less sanguine. The
thought came to her that her life was already declining while his was
but just begun, and in the course of nature, even if his bright dreams
should be realized, she could hardly hope to live long enough to see it.
But of this she said nothing. She would not for the world have dimmed
the brightness of his anticipations by the expression of a single doubt.

"I wish you all success, Paul, and I thank you for wishing me to share
in your good fortune. God helps those who help themselves, and he will
help you if you only deserve it. I shall miss you very much when you are
gone. It will seem more lonely than ever."

"If it were not for you, Aunt Lucy, I should not mind going at all, but