weeks of Midsummer.

CHAPTER XX

SIDE LIGHTS

Louis Gray sat in a capacious willow easy-chair beside the high white
iron hospital bed upon which lay Hugh Benson, convalescing from his
attack of fever. "Pretty comfortable they make you here," Louis
observed, glancing about. "I didn't know their private rooms were as big
and airy as this one."

Benson smiled. "I don't imagine they all are. I didn't realize what sort
of quarters I was in till I began to get better and mother told me.
According to her I have the best in the place. That's Rich. Whatever he
looks after is sure to be gilt-edged. I wonder if you know what a prince
of good fellows he is, anyway."

"I always knew he was a good fellow," Louis agreed. "He has that
reputation, you know--kind-hearted and open-handed. I should know he
would be a substantial friend to his college classmate and business
partner."

"He's much more than that." Benson's slow and languid speech took on a
more earnest tone. "Do you know, I think if any young man in this city
has been misjudged and underrated it's Rich. I know the reputation you
speak of; it's another way of calling a man a spendthrift, to say he's
free with his money among his friends. But I don't believe anybody knows
how free Rich Kendrick is with it among people who have no claim on him.
I never should have known if I hadn't come here. One of my nurses has
told me a lot of things she wasn't supposed ever to tell; but once she
had let a word drop I got it out of her. Why, Louis, for three years
Rich has paid the expenses of every sick child that came into this
hospital, where the family was too poor to pay. He's paid for several
big operations, too, on children that he wanted to see have the best.
There are four special private rooms he keeps for those they call his
patients, and he sees that whoever occupies them has everything they
need--and plenty of things they may not just need, but are bound to
enjoy--including flowers like those."

He pointed to a splendid bowlful of blossoms on a stand behind Louis,
such blossoms as even in June grow only in the choicest of gardens.

"All this is news to me," declared Louis; "mighty good news, too. But
how has he been able to keep it so quiet?"

"Hospital people all pledged not to tell; so of course you and I mustn't
be responsible for letting it out, since he doesn't want it known. I'm
glad I know it, though, and I felt somehow that you ought to know. I
used t