The next day was cold and dismal, with a leaden sky threatening snow,
and a bitter wind blowing that searched the very marrow of one's bones.
The few neighbors who chanced to glance out of their windows at an early
hour in the afternoon were surprised to see Patsy making his way along
the street, slowly and painfully, with the aid of his crutches. They had
never known him to be abroad on a day like this; indeed, it was many a
day since he had attempted going upon the street at all. Poor little
Patsy, his crutches were once a familiar sight going up and down the
pavements on pleasant days in the summer time, but they had thought
never to see him leave his room again. Did David know? Some one should
stop the child; he was too weak to wander out alone like that. But
then, it was no affair of theirs; David could probably be trusted to
look after the boy.
As no one was willing to make it his business to interfere, Patsy went
on his way unmolested. A strange look of determination battled with the
pain on the sickly, childish face as he made his way bravely against the
biting wind that sought to drive him back. He had learned the mystery of
the house on the hill; he knew now why David hated so bitterly that
house and all connected with it; he knew why David was willing and eager
to help the men in the plan they were to carry out that night.
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