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“I know how you feel,” said the doctor. “You can’t tell me anything about that, Mrs. Whipple. I’ve got a boy of my own. But you’d better listen to me. I can’t do anything more for Him, that’s the truth. “

Mr. and Mrs. Whipple talked it over a long time that night after they went to bed. “It’s just charity,” said Mrs. Whipple, “that’s what we’ve come to, charity! I certainly never looked for this. “

“We pay taxes to help support the place just like everybody else,” said Mr. Whipple, “and I don’t call that taking charity I think it would be fine to have Him where He’d get the best of everything… and besides, I can’t keep up with these doctor bills any longer. “

“Maybe that’s why the doctor wants us to send Him—he’s scared he won’t get his money,” said Mrs. Whipple.

“Don’t talk like that,” said Mr. Whipple, feeling pretty sick, “or we won’t be able to send Him. “

“Oh, but we won’t keep Him there long,” said Mrs. Whipple. “Soon’s He’s better, we’ll bring Him right back home. “

“The doctor has told you and told you time and again He can’t ever get better, and you might as well stop talking,” said Mr. Whipple.

“Doctors don’t know everything,” said Mrs. Whipple, feeling almost happy “But anyhow, in the summer Emly can come home for a vacation, and Adna can get down for Sundays: we’ll all work together and get on our feet again, and the children will feel they’ve got a place to come to. “

All at once she saw it full summer again, with the garden going fine, and new white roller shades up all over the house, and Adna and Emly home, so full of life, all of them happy together. Oh, it could happen, things would ease up on them.

They didn’t talk before Him much, but they never knew just how much He understood. Finally the doctor set the day and a neighbor who owned a double-seated carryall offered to drive them over. The hospital would have sent an ambulance, but Mrs. Whipple couldn’t stand to see Him going away looking so sick as all that. They wrapped Him in blankets, and the neighbor and Mr. Whipple lifted Him into the back seat of the carryall beside Mrs. Whipple, who had on her black shirt waist. She couldn’t stand to go looking like charity

“You’ll be all right, I guess I’ll stay behind,” said Mr. Whipple. “It don’t look like everybody ought to leave the place at once. “

“Besides, it ain’t as if He was going to stay forever,” said Mrs. Whipple to the neighbor. “This is only for a little while. “

They started away, Mrs. Whipple holding to the edges of the blankets to keep Him from sagging sideways. He sat there blinking and blinking. He worked His hands out and began rubbing His nose with His knuckles, and then with the end of the blanket. Mrs. Whipple couldn’t believe what she saw; He was scrubbing away big tears that pulled out of the corners of His eyes. He sniveled and made a gulping noise. Mrs. Whipple kept saying, “Oh, honey, you don’t feel so bad, do you? You don’t feel so bad, do you?” for He seemed to be accusing her of something. Maybe He remembered that time she boxed His ears, maybe He had been scared that day with the bull, maybe He had slept cold and couldn’t tell her about it; maybe He knew they were sending Him away for good and all because they were too poor to keep Him. Whatever it was, Mrs. Whipple couldn’t bear to think of it. She began to cry, frightfully, and wrapped her arms tight around Him. His head rolled on her shoulder: she had loved Him as much as she possibly could, there were Adna and Emly who had to be thought of too, there was nothing she could do to make up to Him for His life. Oh, what a mortal pity He was ever born.

They came in sight of the hospital, with the neighbor driving very fast, not daring to look behind him.