Do call him; I can't make him hear." Jerome opened his mouth to shout, but the sick man flew at him with an awful, piteous cry.

"Don't ye, don't ye," he wailed out; "I tell ye not to, J'rome Edwards.

I 'ain't got any money to pay him with." "But you're sick, Henry," said Jerome, putting his hand on the man's shaking shoulder to steady him.

"You'd better let me run after him--I can make him hear now.

It won't cost much." "Don't ye do it," almost sobbed the young farmer.