GAFFER. But you aren't a child, and you've no child in the
house; why worry then?
MADHAV. Oh, but I have brought a child into the house.
GAFFER. Indeed, how so?
MADHAV. You remember how my wife was dying to adopt a child?
GAFFER. Yes, but that's an old story; you didn't like the idea.
MADHAV. You know, brother, how hard all this getting money in
has been. That somebody else's child would sail in and waste all
this money earned with so much trouble--Oh, I hated the idea.
But this boy clings to my heart in such a queer sort of way--
GAFFER. So that's the trouble! and your money goes all for him
and feels jolly lucky it does go at all.
MADHAV. Formerly, earning was a sort of passion with me; I
simply couldn't help working for money. Now, I make money and as
I know it is all for this dear boy, earning becomes a joy to me.
GAFFER. Ah, well, and where did you pick him up?
MADHAV. He is the son of a man who was a brother to my wife by
village ties. He has had no mother since infancy; and now the
other day he lost his father as well.
GAFFER. Poor thing: and so he needs me all the more.
MADHAV. The doctor says all the organs of his little body are at
loggerheads with each other, and there isn't much hope for his
life. There is only one way to save him and that is to keep him
out of this autumn wind and sun.
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