His story was quickly told. His mother was long since dead, and his father had written on his dying bed the letter that commended the boy--so soon to be orphaned--to the pity and care of his grandparents. The sisters trembled and changed color at the story of the boy's hardships on the way to Fairtown; and they plied him with questions and sandwiches in about equal proportions after he told of the frequent dinnerless days and supperless nights of the journey. That evening when the boy was safe in bed--clean, full-stomached, and sleepily content the sisters talked it over. The Reverend John Hapgood, in his will, had cut off his recreant son with the proverbial shilling, so, by law, there was little coming to Ralph. This, however, the sisters overlooked in calm disdain. "We must keep him, anyhow," said Rachel with decision. "Yes, indeed,--the dear child!" "He's twelve, for all he's so small, but he hasn't had much schooling. We must see to that--we want him well educated," continued Rachel, a pink spot showing in either cheek. "Indeed we do--we'll send him to college! I wonder, now, wouldn't he like to be a doctor?" "Perhaps," admitted the other cautiously, "or a minister." "Sure enough--he might like that better; I'm going to ask him!" and she sprang to her feet and tripped across the room to the parlor-bedroom door. "Ralph," she called softly, after turning the knob, "are you asleep?" "Huh? N-no, ma'am." The voice nearly gave the lie to the words. "Well, dear, we were wondering--would you rather be a minister or a doctor?" she asked, much as though she were offering for choice a peach and a pear. "A doctor!" came emphatically from out of the dark--there was no sleep in the voice now. "I've always wanted to be a doctor." "You shall, oh, you shall!" promised the woman ecstatically, going back to her sister; and from that time all their lives were ordered with that one end in view. The Hapgood twins were far from wealthy. They owned the homestead, but their income was small, and the added mouth to fill--and that a hungry one--counted. As the years passed, Huldy came less and less frequently to help in the kitchen, and the sisters' gowns grew more and more rusty and darned. Ralph, boylike, noticed nothing--indeed, half the year he was away at school; but as the time drew near for the college course and its attendant expenses, the sisters were sadly troubled. "We might sell," suggested Tabitha, a little choke in her voice. Rachel started. "Why, sister!--sell? Oh, no, we couldn't do that!" she shuddered. "But what can we do?"