bring
suffering people here."

Madison nodded silently.

"And if you, who have no personal cause for gratitude, feel like that,
how much more should we who--who--oh, there are no words to tell it--my
heart is too full"--Mrs. Thornton smiled through tears. "Robert, you
said you would do anything."

"Yes, dear," Thornton answered gravely. "But what? We cannot do things
in a moment. If money--"

Madison shook his head.

"It's beyond money," he said. "Money is only a secondary consideration.
It's the needs of the place that are paramount. It's not so much the
bringing of people here--they will hear of what has taken place and will
come of their own accord, they will flock here in numbers as time goes
on. But then--what? What can be done with them in this little village?
For a time perhaps they could be accommodated--but after that they must
be turned away."

"Turned away!" exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, in a hurt cry. "Turned away from
hope--to bitterness and misery again! No, no, they must not I Why"--she
grasped her husband's arm agitatedly--"why couldn't we buy land and put
little houses upon it where they could stay?"

Madison leaned suddenly toward her.

"I believe you've hit on the idea, Mrs. Thornton," he said excitedly.
"Why not? It would be the finest thing that was ever done in the world.
But why not go further--this should not be a private enterprise with
the burden on the few." He turned abruptly to Mr. Thornton. "What a
monument from grateful hearts, what a tribute to that saintly soul a
huge sanatorium, built and properly endowed, would be! And it is
feasible--purely from the voluntary contributions of those who come here
and have money--free as the air to the poor who are sick--free to _all_,
for that matter--no one asked to give--but the poorest would gladly lay
down their mites."

"Yes--oh, yes!" cried Mrs. Thornton raptly.

"Yes," admitted Mr. Thornton thoughtfully; "that might be done."

"There is no doubt of it," asserted Madison enthusiastically. "It needs
but the initiative on the part of some one, on our part, and the rest
will take care of itself. But we must, of course, have the endorsement
of the Patriarch--why not go to the cottage now, at once, and talk it
over?"

"Can we see _him_?" asked Mrs. Thornton wistfully. "Oh, I would like to
kneel at his feet and pour out my gratitude. But see how all these
people go no nearer than that row of trees, as though love or fear or
reverence kept t