"Well, my boy, I'm in a tight place. I came here from Iowa, with my wife, expecting to meet a cousin who had promised to get me employment. I find he has left Tacoma. So here I am, with less than five dollars in my pocket and no prospect of work. I'm not a coward, but I don't mind saying I'm afraid to think of what will become of us." An idea came to Andy. Here was a chance to secure a nurse. "Is your wife used to sickness?" he asked. "Could she take care of a sick man?" The woman brightened up. "I took care of my father for a year," she answered. "I'm a middlin' good nurse." "She's the best nurse I know of," put in her husband. "All right! Then I can find you employment. An acquaintance of mine, an old man--as old, probably, as your father--is sick with grip at the Tacoma House. He will pay you liberally. Can you come with me at once?" "Yes, and be glad to." "Come, then. You will be paid twenty-five dollars a week." "Why that's a fortune!" said the woman, amazed. "Come with me at once, and your husband can follow at his leisure." "Maria, that's what I call a streak of good luck," said her husband, overjoyed. "Go along with this young man, and I'll get a cheap room somewhere in town. I'll take the trunk along with me." He shouldered the small trunk, and his wife went off with Andy. In a few minutes she was installed in the sick chamber, and soon showed that she understood her business. A doctor was sent for, and Seth Johnson, for this was the sick man's name, was soon made comfortable. He ratified Andy's bargain, and paid, besides, for Mrs. Graham's board at the hotel. He did not gain rapidly, for his strength was at a low ebb, but he improved steadily. The husband found employment in a couple of days, and their temporary despondency gave place to hope and courage. "You've done better for me than my cousin would have done, Andy," said Graham, a few days later. "You've set me on my feet, and I'm not afraid now but I'll get along." CHAPTER XXXIV. SETH JOHNSON'S GIFT. It was four weeks before Seth Johnson became convalescent. His system was run down, and he was in a very critical state when found by Andy. Careful nursing saved him. When able to get out, he accompanied Andy to show him his lots. The plot was about as large as Mr. Crawford's, but was a little further from the center of the town. It would make about twenty-five lots of the average size. "How much will you take for the entire plot?" asked Andy. "I don't want to sell the whole," said Johnson. "I thought you meant to leave Tacoma for good?" "So I do, but I propose to give one-fifth of the land to a friend." "Then let me know how much you will take for the remaining four-fifths." "Will five thousand dollars be too much?" "I will buy it at that figure," said Andy, promptly. "You don't ask me to whom I intend to give the fifth which I reserve?" "It is probably no one whom I know." "On the contrary, it is one whom you know well--it is yourself."