“Dr. Holland says you may begin to study again, now, Arthur,” said his mother cheerfully, “and it seems to me you might be ready for college next fall if you do a little every day.  You may have a tutor any time you are ready.”

“What’s the use?” answered Arthur languidly.  “I can’t do anything in athletics with this confounded leg, and I don’t want to go there just to limp around and grind.”

“My dear boy, college training is occasionally useful in the way of improving one’s mind as well as muscles,” said Mrs. Hamilton with mild sarcasm.  “Dear, don’t think I am unsympathetic,” she added quickly as her son. frowned impatiently.  “I realize, in part, at least, what it must be to you to give up your dreams of athletic glory; but I know, too, that no one else can fight this battle for you.  You’ve got to face the question squarely, and I have faith that you will come out a conqueror if you put your best self into the effort.”

“Mother, you don’t begin to know,” said Arthur slowly, “what this means to me.  It’s not alone giving up the athletics, though that’s hard enough, but it’s the sensitiveness I feel about letting any one see that I’m lame.  I believe I was rather proud before,” he continued with a faint smile, “because I was straight and strong and could almost always beat the other boys at any game we tried; I know it always seemed to me the most dreadful thing in the world to be crippled in any way, and now I’ve got to hop around with a crutch all the rest of my life.  Oh, I believe I’d rather die,” he ended bitterly.

“Arthur, dear, I can understand that feeling perfectly,” answered his mother eagerly, “for at your age I had it as strongly as you have.  I think it is only natural to rejoice in strength and straightness and skill, and to be sensitive if in any way they are taken away from us.  But for all our sakes you’ve got to bring yourself out of this unhappy condition.  Begin with your crutches about your room, and when you get a little skill surprise father and me by coming downstairs.  We miss our boy more than I can say.”

There was silence for a moment and then Mrs. Hamilton said: 

“I came up with a pocketful of news and have almost forgotten to tell you about it.  We are to have a new member in our family; a little girl, the daughter of an old friend of mine, is coming to live with us for a whole year.”

“How old is she?” asked Arthur indifferently.

“I’m not quite sure,” answered his mother, relieved to find that he took it so calmly, “but I think she is about fourteen.”

“Fourteen!  Gracious!” ejaculated Arthur sitting bolt upright in his dismay.  “You don’t mean to say that we’ve got to have a girl fourteen years old in this house?  I thought you meant a child about four or five when you said ‘little girl.’”

Mrs. Hamilton couldn’t help laughing at his comical look of apprehension.  “I think she’s quite harmless, Arthur, and perhaps you may find her really agreeable when you know her.”