Were they to fail?
The old man began to economize. His mittens wore out. He did not buy more.
He needed new flannels, but he did not buy them. Instead he tried to patch
the old ones, and Elnathan, coming in suddenly, caught him doing it.
"Why, Uncle Chris!" he exclaimed. "What are you patching those old things
for? Why don't you pitch 'em out and get new ones?"
The old man kept silent till he had his needle threaded. Then he said,
softly, with a half-apology in his tone, "The money's 'most gone,
Elnathan."
The boy started. He knew as well as Mr. Lightenhome that when the last coin
was spent, the doors of the poorhouse would open once more to receive his
only friend. A thrill of gladness went through Elnathan as he recognized
that no such fate awaited him.
He could provide for himself. He need never return. And by that thrill in
his own bosom he guessed the feeling of his friend. He could not put what
he guessed into words. Nevertheless, he felt sure that the old man would
not falter nor complain.
"How much have you?" he asked.
Mr. Lightenhome told him.
Then, without a word, Elnathan got up and went out.
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