W. Pett Ridge

“ Erb discovering the lines with the aid of Rosalind's finger, gave the cue. “For he to-day——” The old Professor went on. “'For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my be-rother! be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition, And gentlemen in England, And gentlemen in England—and gentlemen in England.' No use,” said the Professor weakly, “my study's gone.”
“Don't bother about it, sir.”
“Laddie,” said the Professor, “you—you think me a thriftless, miserable wastrel.”
“No, no,” answered Erb. “We're none of us perfect.” ”

“ A will, drawn up in commendable order, directed that all this was left to “my dear daughter Rosalind, and may she forgive her father for many shortcomings, and think of him if she can, with affection and regard.”
“This,” said Erb, when he had reckoned up the amounts on a slip of paper, “this is very satisfactory for you, but it makes all the difference to me.”
“It's going to make no sort of difference whatever,” said Rosalind emphatically.
“Money matters always do.”
“Depends on the people who have the money. Money in itself doesn't bring happiness, but it doesn't follow that it destroys it. ”

“ The boy doctor looked anxiously from the foot of the sofa: Rosalind knelt.
“You're going to have a nice long sleep, sir,” said Erb, bending down. “And you'll wake up a different man, bless you.”
“I shall wake up,” repeated the Professor slowly, “wake up a different man.”
Both eyelids closing now, he turned his white head a little towards the wall. Presently his grip of Erb's hand relaxed, and Erb, disengaging himself, went with the others to the window, where the three spoke in an undertone, Erb holding Rosalind's elbows supportingly. A slight groan from the sofa. ”