“I know what we can do,” he began. “We can go through the parish, and ask every person to give something. That’s what the Ladies’ Aid did when they wanted to build that shed for the horses near the church.”
“But how would Whyn like that?” the captain asked. “Wouldn’t, it seem too, much like beggin’?”
“It would be better, though, than letting her die,” Rod insisted.
“Sure, sure,” the captain agreed. “But I don’t like the idea, fer all that. Let’s go home now and think of some other plan. If it comes to the worst, we might have to beg, but not if we kin help it.”
CHAPTER XXVII
JIMMY
It took Jimmy Britt many weeks to regain his strength after his serious illness. For a long time he manifested very little interest in what was going on around him. His father and mother wore greatly disappointed and discouraged. He only spoke when spoken to, and spent hours wandering alone along the shore or out in the woods. The scouts annoyed him, and they kept as far from him as possible and he from them. The only conversation he had with his father concerning his past life was the day he spoke about Anna Royanna, and the influence her song had upon him. The captain and Mrs. Britt were afraid that the blow he had received upon his head had somewhat affected his brain, and this caused them considerable worry. The neighbours had already whispered this among themselves, for they had been quick to notice the change which had come over the returned son.
“Look here, Jimmy,” his father said that evening after the scouts had left, “I want ye to write a letter fer me. My old hand is so cramped that I kin hardly hold a pen. Ye used to be good at sich work.”
“All right,” Jimmy replied, rising slowly and bringing down the writing materials from an upper shelf. “Now, fire away; I’m ready.”
But the captain hesitated, and was at a loss how to begin. He scratched his head in perplexity.
“Dang it all!” he muttered. “Oh, jist tell him that we have a little sick girl here, who will die if she doesn’t git to a specialist in New York, and that I’d like fer him to help out with the expense.”
“What are you talking about, dad?” Jimmy asked. “I can’t write the letter until you give me the name of the person you want it sent to.”
“Oh, didn’t I tell ye? Well, that’s queer. It’s fer my old master, Benjamin Dodge, in the city. He’s got the money, and he told me that if I ever needed any help to go to him. I have never bothered him before, and never intended to do so, but this is different. Whyn’s life’s at stake, and that’s reason enough. The scouts are to give all the money they earned fer that prize, but it won’t go very far. We need a great deal more, and at once.”
“And did the scouts give that money of their own free will?” Jimmy asked. “Did you suggest it to them?”