fixed
intentions as far as the boy was concerned, and folks were not far wrong
when they (mostly in order to vex the other Gregorics) prophesied the
end would be that Gregorics would marry Anna Wibra, and adopt her boy.
Kupeczky himself often said:

"Yes, that will be the end of it. Who will bet with me?"

It would have been the end, and the correct way too, for Gregorics was
fond enough of the boy to do a correct thing for once in a way. But two
things happened to prevent the carrying out of this plan. First of all
Anna fell from a ladder and broke her leg, so that she limped all her
life after, and who wants a lame wife?

The second thing was, that little Gyuri was taken ill very suddenly. He
turned blue in the face and was in convulsions; they thought he would
die. Gregorics fell on his knees by the side of the bed of the sick
child, kissed his face and cold little hands, and asked despairingly:

"What is the matter, my boy? Tell me what hurts you."

"I don't know, uncle," moaned the child.

At that moment Gregorics suffered every pain the child felt, and his
heart seemed breaking. He seized hold of the doctor's hand, and his
agony pressed these words from him:

"Doctor, save the child, and I'll give you a bag full of gold."

The doctor saved him, and got the bag of money too, as Gregorics had
promised in that hour of danger. (Of course the doctor did not choose
the bag, Gregorics had one made on purpose.)

The doctor cured the boy, but made Gregorics ill, for he instilled
suspicion into his mind by swearing that the boy's illness was the
result of poison. Nothing could have upset Gregorics as much as this
declaration. How could it have happened? Had he eaten any poisonous
mushrooms? Gyuri shook his head. Well, what could he have eaten?

The mother racked her brains to find out what could have been the cause.
Perhaps this, perhaps that, perhaps the vinegar was bad, or the copper
saucepans had not been quite clean? Gregorics shook his head
sorrowfully.

"Don't talk nonsense, Anna," he said.

Deep down in his heart was a thought which he was afraid to put into
words, but which entirely spoiled his life for him, and robbed him of
sleep and appetite. He had thought of his step-brothers; they had
something to do with it, he was sure. There was an end to all his plans
for adopting the boy, giving him his own name, and leaving him his
fortune. No, no, it would cost Gyuri his life; they would kill him if he
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