"He didn't say what it would be. I don't even suppose that he had decided when he spoke. I was indeed happy to have him praise Gerald as he did. He said that he would trust our boy with any amount of money. He has watched Gerald, as he always does every lad who works in the store. He said that nearly all of them had helped themselves to a piece of candy from the showcase when they had wished, but that Gerald had never once touched a thing that did not belong to him. Mr. Peterson was so pleased that he asked Gerald about it one day, saying: 'Don't you like candy, lad?' And our boy replied: 'Indeed I do, Mr. Peterson! I don't buy it because I want to save all my money to help Dad.' "Gerald hadn't even thought of helping himself as he worked around the store." "Of course, Gerry wouldn't," the old lady replied emphatically, "for isn't he your son, Daniel?" "And your grandson, mother?" the man smilingly returned. "But we must get some sleep," he added, as the chimes on the mantle clock told them that it was eleven. "Tomorrow is to be a busy day." It was also to be a day of surprises, although this, these two did not guess. CHAPTER VII. GERRY'S SURPRISE Grandmother Abbott had indeed been right when she prophecied that Gerald's joy, upon hearing that he could accompany Dan and his sister Julie, would be unbounded. She told him before breakfast while they were waiting for the others to come down. They had planned telling him later, but when his father saw how hard the small boy was trying to be brave; how the tune he was endeavoring to whistle wavered and broke, he could stand it no longer, and, putting a hand on each of the boy's shoulders, he looked down at him as he asked: "Son, if you could have your dearest wish fulfilled, what would it be?" The lad hesitated, then he said earnestly: "There's two things to wish for, Dad, and they're both awful big. I want everything to be all right for you, but, oh, how I do want brother Dan to get well." Tears sprang to the eyes of the little old lady, and placing a hand affectionately on the boy's head she asked: "Isn't there something else, dearie, something you'd be wishing just for yourself?" It was quite evident to the two who were watching that a struggle was going on in the boy's heart. He had assured himself, time and again, that his dad must not know how he wished that he could go with Dan. He even felt guilty, because he wanted to go, believing that his dad needed his help at home, and so he said nothing. His father, surmising that this might be the case, asked, with one of his rare smiles: "If you knew, son, that I thought it best for you to go with Julie, to help her take care of Dan, would you be pleased?" Such a light as there was in the freckled face, but, even then, the boy did not let himself rejoice. "Dad," he said, "don't you need me here?"