"That it do!" said Betty. "I won't deny that my heart sank to think of being without you, Fred, and seeing my poor garden, that's all my living, going to waste. I was thinking it meant the poorhouse." "Yet you wanted me to believe you were delighted. Oh, Mrs. Betty, I'm ashamed of you! I never can thank you enough, Dr. Wentworth, but I'll serve you faithfully," said the boy, earnestly; and, kneeling down beside a patch of annuals, he began tenderly to pick out minute weeds from among the tiny plants. "Thin 'em, Fred, thin 'em. You're always too shy of thinning. Leave each plant standing by itself. Yes, that's more like. Doctor, come closer. I wouldn't allow this, but that I don't think it will be for very long. I feel very weak sometimes, and they're all doing well, and now that Fred's provided for, I'm quite ready to go. What is it now, Fred?" "I want to ask the doctor a question. Can you tell me, sir, what it will cost to get a well-made wooden cross, with words cut on it and painted for Frank? I've saved up a few shillings for it." "I am going to town to-morrow, and I will order it for you; if it costs more than you have saved, you must let me pay the rest, as my thanks to you for all your care of our little grave. What shall I have carved on it?" "Just this, sir. First, 'Frank' by itself, and then 'Tell muddie I took care of Fred.' That's to go across the arms of it. And below the date, 'September 14, 18—.'" "Why, Fred, I'd no idea you understood or remembered those words," cried Betty. "You know, doctor, that's what the little fellow said." "Yes," said Fred, "I never forgot them. Frank died to save me; I can see that now. We called her muddie. Some day, perhaps, among the people who come to see our church and the churchyard, there may be some one who knows her, who will know what the words mean. Some day, I shall put a marble cross with the whole story on it, but this will do now." Fred went back to his weeding, and Dr. Wentworth said to Betty— "I never heard the boy speak so much before." "Nor I, sir." "And he can say Frank and Fred now, I perceive." "Oh yes, sir; only if he is in a hurry, he slips back into the old way. Well, Dr. Wentworth, I'm easy in my mind about the boy now." "You may be, Betty. As far as I can, I will make him my care. He is a fine fellow." So, when the midsummer holidays began, Fred left school and began his new work. The doctor began to teach him enough Latin to read the prescriptions, or at least that was what he first intended, but the boy was so eager to learn that the lessons did not stop there, nor was Latin the only thing studied. Study was a delight to the silent, somewhat lonely boy, and he made such progress that the good doctor was proud of his pupil.