“No.  I never thought about it until Rod came over this mornin’ and put the notion into my head.”

For some time Jimmy sat toying with the pen he was holding in his hand.

“Why don’t ye write that letter?” his father demanded.

“So you say that the girl can’t get better unless she goes to a specialist?” his son enquired.

“It’s what the doctors say; that’s all I know about it.  But git on with that letter, will ye?”

“Look here, dad,” and Jimmy laid aside the pen.  “I’m going to the city in the morning, and suppose I see old Dodge about the matter.  It will be much better than writing a letter.  I can explain things which I couldn’t write.”

“Maybe that would be the best way,” the captain agreed.  “But put it up to him straight, Jimmy.  He’s a gruff cur at times, but he’s got a big heart.”

“I’ll attend to that, dad.  Just leave it to me.”

The captain was very restless the next day.  He thought that the time for the arrival of the evening boat would never come.  Jimmy was to return on her, and suppose Dodge was unwilling to assist!  What would he do?  His eyes often turned toward the Roaring Bess riding at anchor before the house.  Several times he stood in front of the door and looked out over his few acres of land.  What his thoughts were he kept to himself, but the expression, of determination in his eyes told of a man who would not easily be balked in the object upon which he had set his heart and mind.

Captain Josh met Jimmy at the wharf, and the two walked down the road together.

“Well, did ye see Dodge?” the captain eagerly enquired.

“No,” was the brief reply.

“No?” the old man repeated, while his heart sank low.

“I didn’t see him, and I didn’t intend to.”

“But what about Whyn, Jimmy?  Didn’t ye promise me that——­”

“Oh, that’s all right,” and the son gave a short laugh.  “I have the money, and isn’t that enough?”

“Ye’ve got the money, ye say?” the captain asked in astonishment, stopping abruptly, and looking keenly into the young man’s face.  “Where did ye git it?”

“Don’t worry about that, dad.  It’s honest money, and I’m glad it’s to be spent for a good purpose.  But for that little song I heard in New York, it would have been all blown in by this time.”

“Jimmy, d’ye tell me that it’s yer own money?” the captain demanded.  “Or are ye only foolin’ me?”

“It was mine, dad, but now it’s yours, so here it is,” and the son brought forth a big roll of bills from his pocket, and handed it to his father.  “Sit down, dad, and see how much is there.”

Seating himself upon a stone, the captain spread out the bills upon his knee, by fifties and hundreds.

“A thousand dollars!” he gasped, when he had finished.  His hands trembled, and his body shook from the vehemence of his emotion.  “Jimmy——­” It was all he could say.