"Where?" asked the girl.
"Over there," and he pointed to the mountains behind which the golden orb was sinking to rest.
"Yes, dear," spoke the matron, who had overheard what was said, "and in the morning he'll get up and shine on the fields where you can run around and get strong.
"He's a sickly child," the matron added in a whisper to Dick. "I'm afraid he never will be strong. He has such queer fancies at times. His mother is a widow and goes out washing. The sister stays home and takes care of her little brother. It was a real charity that they could come, and I'm sure the committee doesn't know how to thank you for your generosity."
"Oh, pshaw! That's nothing," replied Dick, blushing like a girl at the praise. "I ought to do something with my money. I'm glad I heard about this fresh-air plan. I'll have some of the youngsters out next year if—"
Then he stopped. He happened to think that if his investments did not succeed he would not have much money to spend the next year, and, besides, he might be living with his Uncle Ezra at Dankville.
But the matron did not notice his hesitation, for, at that moment, the stage turned into the drive leading up to Sunnyside, and Dick was besieged by several inquiries.
"Say, mister, is dis a park?" asked one boy, as he saw the well-kept drive.
