Don’t let the boy hear you say that. He has the worst of the trouble.”
“I know,” said his wife meekly, for when Mr. Allen spoke in that tone, she knew it was time to obey; “I only thought if he would be as well off in some institution, and leave us a little more free, it would be a good thing. This care is wearing on me terribly.”
“Poor Fred! He’s a good boy,” observed his father; “and I think he has shown some pluck the last few months.”
“Well, he has had everything possible done for him,” said Mrs. Allen, as she drew a vase of hyacinths towards her, and began to rearrange them.
“I wish we could plan to have you go with me,” Mr. Allen went on. “I was going last summer, and only waited till Fred was better. I must go now, at once; and if you could come, if we had somewhere to leave Fred, we would stay over a year and make a complete tour, take a run to Egypt, and go up to Norway.”
“I certainly must go. To begin with, think of me alone here with just that boy, morbid as he is! I should be insane.”
