You're a good friend to me

  "You've got a hard cough."   "Yes; it hurts my throat when I cough, and I can't get a wink of sleep."   "I've brought you a little cough medicine. It was some we had in the house."   "Thank you, Luke. You're a good friend to me. Give me some, please."   "If your mother'll give me a spoon, I'll pour some out."   When the medicine was taken, the boys began to talk.   "I ought to be at work," said Jim, sighing. "I don't know how we'll get along if I don't get out soon. Mother has some washing to do, but it isn't enough to pay all our expenses. I used to bring in seventy-five cents a day, and that, with what mother could earn, kept us along."   "I wish I was rich enough to help you, Jim, but you know how it is. All I can earn I have to carry home. My mother sews for a house on State Street, but sewing doesn't pay as well as washing."   "I know you'd help me if you could, Luke. You have helped me by bringing in the medicine, and it does me good to have you call."   "But I would like to do more. I'll tell you what I will do. I know a rich gentleman, one of my customers. I! am to call upon him to-morrow. I'll tell him about you, and perhaps he will help you."

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