"But here am I," continued the speaker. "Is it just to me for you to hide away here in want that forces you and your wife--I beg your pardon, madam--into mortifying occupations, when one word to me--a trivial obligation, not worthy to be called an obligation, contracted with me--would remove that necessity, and tide you over the emergency of the hour?" Richling was already answering, not by words only, but by his confident smile:-- "Yes, sir; yes, it is just: ask Mary." "Yes, Doctor," interposed the wife. "We went over"-- "We went over it together," said John. "We weighed it well. It _is_ just,--not to ask aid as long as there's hope without it." The Doctor responded with the quiet air of one who is sure of his position:-- "Yes, I see. But, of course--I know without asking--you left the question of health out of your reckoning. Now, Richling, put the whole world, if you choose, in a selfish attitude"-- "No, no," said Richling and his wife. "Ah, no!" But the Doctor persisted. "--a purely selfish attitude. Wouldn't it, nevertheless, rather help a well man or woman than a sick one? Wouldn't it pay better?" "Yes, but"-- "Yes," said the Doctor. "But you're taking the most desperate risks against health and life." He leaned forward in his chair, jerked in his legs, and threw out his long white hands. "You're committing slow suicide." "Doctor," began Mary; but her husband had the floor. "Doctor," he said, "can you put yourself in our place? Wouldn't you rather die than beg? _Wouldn't_ you?" The Doctor rose to his feet as straight as a lance. "It isn't what you'd rather, sir! You haven't your choice! You haven't your choice at all, sir! When God gets ready for you to die he'll let you know, sir! And you've no right to trifle with his mercy in the meanwhile. I'm not a man to teach men to whine after each other for aid; but every principle has its limitations, Mr. Richling. You say you went over the whole subject. Yes; well, didn't you strike the fact that suicide is an affront to civilization and humanity?" "Why, Doctor!" cried the other two, rising also. "We're not going to commit suicide." "No," retorted he, "you're not. That's what I came here to tell you. I'm here to prevent it." "Doctor," exclaimed Mary, the big tears standing in her eyes, and the Doctor melting before them like wax, "it's not so bad as it looks. I wash--some--because it pays so much better than sewing. I find I'm stronger than any one would believe. I'm stronger than I ever was before in my life. I am, indeed. I _don't_ wash _much_. And it's only for the present. We'll all be laughing at this, some time, together." She began a small part of the laugh then and there.