Here also, Hernando saw evidenced the same kindly thought, the same endeavor to make him forget that he had ever been away from them. It was a Thanksgiving dinner in very truth, and in each one's heart was a prayer of gratitude.
The doctors wished to take the ten o'clock train for New York City, so, after dinner, they, with Mr. De Vere and Mr. Genung, withdrew to the library and as soon as they were seated, Mr. De Vere said, "Dr. Herschel, money cannot pay our debt of gratitude. It seems an insult to mention it in connection with such miraculous skill; but this is a practical world, and if you will allow us to place at your disposal a certain sum, it could be used in any way you thought best."
"To 'Old Ninety-Nine,' not me, is your gratitude due," Dr. Herschel replied.
"And but for you his cure would without doubt be still unknown," broke in Mr. Genung. "No, modesty is an estimable trait but, giving 'Old Ninety-Nine' due credit, our indebtness is to you."
