"He is very bad," said Harry, "he can't be much worse; they call it 'bronchitis;' the doctor thinks it will turn one way or another to-night."
"That's bad, very bad," said Grant, shaking his head; "I know two men who died of that last week; it takes 'em off in no time; but whilst there's life there's hope, so you must keep up your spirits."
"Yes," said Harry quickly, "and the doctor said that father had a better chance than most men, because he didn't drink. He said yesterday the fever was so high, that if father had been a drinking man, it would have burnt him up like a piece of paper; but I believe he thinks he will get over it; don't you think he will, Mr. Grant?"
The Governor looked puzzled, "If there's any rule that good men should get over these things, I am sure he will, my boy; he's the best man I know. I'll look in early to-morrow."
Early next morning he was there. "Well?" said he.
"Father is better," said Harry, "mother hopes he will get over it."
"Thank God! "said the Governor," and now you must keep him warm, and keep his mind easy, and that brings me to the horses; you see, Jack will be all the better for the rest of a week or two in a warm stable, and you can easily take him a turn up and down the street to stretch his legs; but this young one, if he does not get work, he will soon be all up on end as you may say, and will be rather too much for you; and when he does go out, there'll be an accident."
