Quincy laughed. Ministers' sons are seldom appalled by worldly ways
and, quite often, adopt them.

"This is Arthur Scates," said Mr. Strout, as he presented a young man
with sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and an emaciated body. "He ain't
enjoyin' the best of health."

"Ah, I remember," said Quincy. "You are the young man who was to sing
at the concert when I first came here. I took your place, and that
act turned out to be the most important one in my life. I owe much of
my present happiness to you. What is your trouble?"

"My lungs are affected. I have lost my voice and cannot sing. I had
counted on becoming an opera singer."

"Why do you not go to one of the out-door hospitals for treatment?"

The young man's face flushed, and he remained silent.

"Pardon me," said Quincy. "I understand. Come to Boston next week, to
the State House, and I will see that you have the best of treatment."

"Wall, Mr. Sawyer, it does one's eyes good to set 'em on you again.
This is Olive Green,--you remember her sister Betsey worked for me
when you was one of my boarders." The woman's voice was loud and
strident, and filled the room.

"Mrs. Hawkins, I shall never forget you and Miss Betsey Green, and
how you both tried to make my stay with you a pleasant one."