"I've my little home clear of debt, and a trifle at interest; and over in Yerbury churchyard there are two graves dear to me and my old lady. It would break her heart to leave them. And sometimes, Maverick, I thank God, that I've no sons to grow up tramps or worse. No, I'll stay here, and fight through somehow." They were silent for several minutes, each one tugging at the knotty problem. Then Cameron rose, reached out for the phial of medicine, drove his slouch-hat down over his forehead, and walked toward the door. "Drop in and see us, Jack, after you have thought it over a bit. Mother's always had a warm corner in her heart for you.--Morning, doctor;" and, nodding, he closed the door behind him. CHAPTER XI. JACK and Maverick glanced at each other, a long, searching, questioning glance. "Given twenty or forty moderate fortunes, instead of the one great one," said Jack slowly. "And you have a greater amount of general prosperity and happiness." "Co-operation," continued Jack. "And now, if you don't mind, you may take a walk with me," said Maverick. "Office-hours are over, and I have some rather serious cases on hand. Jerry's gone lame, stuck a nail in his foot, so I console myself with pedestrian theories." "All right. I may need a pilot." It was a mid-April day; but spring was late, and every thing looked bleak to Jack after his Southern sojourn. Certainly it was quite different from the trim little town of Jack's boyhood. The blight of poverty and thriftlessness had fallen upon it. There were piles of refuse in the streets, still half frozen; there were muddy stoops and shabby hall-doors, and broken area-palings, and now and then a window patched up with paper or rags. For though there may be much high theorizing and preaching on the two or three exceptional men who have lifted themselves out of dens of poverty, and come through great tribulation, there are thousands who work out nothing but blind destruction and utter shipwreck, and who in frantic efforts for salvation drag down those nearest and dearest, as a drowning man may clutch at his own brother. "Not very inviting," apologized Maverick; "but I have two calls to make here in Boyd's Row,--old rookeries that ought to have been pulled down long ago, but I suppose they still bring in Boyd considerable. I have made a complaint about the drains: they are enough to breed a pestilence. Tom Byrne has three children down with scarlet-fever. Two of them will be carried out presently, but I hope to save the little girl. No--I won't take you in." "Tom Byrne--he was a mill-hand. And I know his wife well. Yes, Maverick." And Jack followed him. It was a two-story cottage with three rooms on a floor, and two families occupying it. The Byrnes were up-stairs.