He went off without even a bite ta eat.”

“Well, now that’s too bad,” said Paige, “but look here, we’ve got more important things to do right now than bother about that money. I know places where we can get money. But what we need first is to see that your father is looked after. Has he had anything to eat yet since he came back?”

“Nope,” said the boy, “he said he never could eat again. Hadn’t any right to eat ’cause he was a failure.”

“There now, kid, don’t begin that bawling again. Where is your father? We’ll see what we can do about it.”

The boy at first wouldn’t answer. Then he said: “Dad won’t like it ef I tell ya.”

“That’s all right, kid. I’ll make it right with your father. Where is he? He doesn’t need to know you told me. Show me where he is.”

“He’s over on the old couch in the back shed,” said the boy, with a shudder.

“Okay, kid! Show me where that is. We mustn’t waste any time. Your father needs something to eat, and we brought some soup and hot coffee. That’ll brace him up, and then we can talk about the other troubles. Hurry! We haven’t any time to lose.”

At last the boy was induced to lead the way to the forlorn little bare shed behind the kitchen where the man was stretched despairingly on a broken-down sofa, partially covered with a worn Brussels carpet.

Paige turned on his flashlight, and the motionless figure stirred and looked up.

“Hello, brother. There you are! I’m hunting you to see if you wouldn’t like a good hot cup of coffee. Then you’ll be in better shape to help us get things straightened out.”

“Is my—little—Nannie gone?” asked the man’s weak, anxious voice.

“Why no, man. What gave you that idea? The doctor’s just gone in to see her. He’ll bring her round, and you’ve got to brace up and get ready to help us.”

“There’s—nothing—I can—do!”

“Oh yes, there is,” said Paige. “Wait till you’ve had a cup of that nice coffee. Does this door open into the kitchen? I thought so. Kid, suppose you get me a cup and saucer, and we’ll have your father fixed up in no time.”

Paige threw open the old wooden door to a bare kitchen where a single candle burned on a mantel shelf. The baskets he had brought in were still on the table where he had put them. He could hear the doctor’s cheerful voice across the next room, in the bedroom beyond, then a feeble child’s voice and a mother’s sobs. Just then June Culbertson came quickly out and went efficiently to work preparing a cup of broth from the other Thermos bottle. This was some girl, taking hold of a situation like this and carrying on efficiently!

He went back to the father with the hot coffee and an old cushion he had picked up from a chair.

“Now, brother,” he said cheerfully, “suppose you let me raise your head a little higher so you can drink this.”

In spite of the man’s protests, Paige was able to lift him into a comfortable position and coax him to swallow a few spoonfuls of the hot liquid, after which he seemed to revive a little, and finally sat up and drank the rest of the coffee.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said. “That’s heartening. But I ought not to have taken it. My wife needs it more than I do. She’s been up day and night nursing our little girl.”

“There’s enough for your wife to have some, too,” assured Paige cheerfully.

“But my little girl’s going to die!”

“Oh, no, she isn’t, not just now,” said the heartening voice of the doctor who had just come out of the sickroom. “All she needed was a little cheering up and some of that good hot soup Miss June brought along.