“Honey,” she said; “mammy ain’ gwine lay hyeah long.  She be all right putty soon.”

“Nevah you min’,” said Patsy with a choke in his voice.  “I can do somep’n’, an’ we’ll have anothah doctah.”

“La, listen at de chile; what kin you do?”

“I’m goin’ down to McCarthy’s stable and see if I kin git some horses to exercise.”

A sad look came into Eliza’s eyes as she said:  “You’d bettah not go, Patsy; dem hosses’ll kill you yit, des lak dey did yo’ pappy.”

But the boy, used to doing pretty much as he pleased, was obdurate, and even while she was talking, put on his ragged jacket and left the room.

Patsy was not wise enough to be diplomatic.  He went right to the point with McCarthy, the liveryman.

The big red-faced fellow slapped him until he spun round and round.  Then he said, “Ye little devil, ye, I’ve a mind to knock the whole head off o’ ye.  Ye want harses to exercise, do ye?  Well git on that ‘un, an’ see what ye kin do with him.”

The boy’s honest desire to be helpful had tickled the big, generous Irishman’s peculiar sense of humor, and from now on, instead of giving Patsy a horse to ride now and then as he had formerly done, he put into his charge all the animals that needed exercise.

It was with a king’s pride that Patsy marched home with his first considerable earnings.

They were small yet, and would go for food rather than a doctor, but Eliza was inordinately proud, and it was this pride that gave her strength and the desire of life to carry her through the days approaching the crisis of her disease.

As Patsy saw his mother growing worse, saw her gasping for breath, heard the rattling as she drew in the little air that kept going her clogged lungs, felt the heat of her burning hands, and saw the pitiful appeal in her poor eyes, he became convinced that the city doctor was not helping her.  She must have another.  But the money?

That afternoon, after his work with McCarthy, found him at the Fair-grounds.  The spring races were on, and he thought he might get a job warming up the horse of some independent jockey.  He hung around the stables, listening to the talk of men he knew and some he had never seen before.  Among the latter was a tall, lanky man, holding forth to a group of men.

“No, suh,” he was saying to them generally, “I’m goin’ to withdraw my hoss, because thaih ain’t nobody to ride him as he ought to be rode.  I haven’t brought a jockey along with me, so I’ve got to depend on pick-ups.  Now, the talent’s set agin my hoss, Black Boy, because he’s been losin’ regular, but that hoss has lost for the want of ridin’, that’s all.”

The crowd looked in at the slim-legged, raw-boned horse, and walked away laughing.

“The fools!” muttered the stranger.  “If I could ride myself I’d show ’em!”

Patsy was gazing into the stall at the horse.

“What are you doing thaih,” called the owner to him.