"Don't cry! For goodness' sake,
don't cry! Tell me, whatever's the matter?"
It was, of course, a most unorthodox thing for Ingred to blurt out
family affairs, and Father and Mother would have been justly indignant
had they known, but she was impulsive, and without much worldly wisdom,
and Mr. Hardcastle seemed sympathetic, so on the spur of the moment she
told him the urgency of Athelstane's need, and how she was trying to
meet it. He sat quite quiet for a short time, staring into the fire,
then he said, very gently and kindly:
"My dear little girl, you needn't part with your dog. I believe I can
lend your brother all the medical books he wants."
"You! But you're not a doctor?" exclaimed Ingred.
"No, but my boy was studying medicine at Birkshaw. He had just passed
his intermediate M. B. when he was called up. I've got all his books. He
won't want them again now. He was flying over the German lines, and his
machine crashed down. One comfort, he was killed instantly! He had
always hoped he'd never be taken prisoner. I think he'd have liked his
books to be put to some use. I'll hunt them out, and send them across to
your brother, and the microscope, and any other things I can find. He
may just as well have them."
There was a huskiness in the old gentleman's voice, but he coughed it
away.
"I don't know how to thank you!" stammered Ingred.
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