"Seems to me he looks kind o' peaked--don't he, Nan?" he remarked,
uneasily.
Nan cast an anxious glance at the little, thin face, and shook her
head. "He doesn't get strong as I hoped he would," she answered,
sadly.
"Oh well, he will, when it comes warmer, so he can get out doors
oftener," the boy said, as he went away to his room.
He hurried through his work the next day, closing his stand at the
earliest possible moment, and rushing home to get ready for his
visit. He always, now, kept his face and hands scrupulously clean. His
hair might have been in better condition if he had had money to buy a
comb or a brush, but those were among the luxuries that he felt he
must deny himself until he had made all the restitution in his power.
To-day, however, when he went to Nan's room for his money, she offered
him the use of her comb, and helped him reduce his rough, thick hair
to some kind of order. Even then he looked at himself somewhat
doubtfully. His suit was so shabby in spite of Nan's careful mending,
and his shoes were worse than his suit, but they were polished to the
last degree. He had exchanged a sandwich and two doughnuts for that
"shine."
"You look well enough, Theo," Nan said, "plenty well enough. Now go
on, and oh, I do _hope_ it will be all right.
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