The man on the bench, broken down by just such a life as he
recommended to his friend, looked at the man on the grass, unworn and
vigorous, and questioned whether, with all his virtues, Burns were really
possessed of the proper ambition. The man on the grass, aware of large
interests in his busy life, looked at the man on the bench, whose
interests were at present wholly concerned with recovering his health,
and wondered what insanity it was which bound his fellow mortal's brain
that he could not see things in their right values. There was a long
minute's silence. Then Burns, lying at full length upon his side in the
warm grass, his head propped upon his elbow, began, in a thoughtful tone:
"Ever since a period early in our acquaintance my wife and I have had
a vision before us. It was one that, curiously enough, we both had
separately first, and then discovered, by accident, that it was mutual.
The time has come when we are to carry it out. My wife has bought an old
place, in the real country, three miles out on a road that turns off from
the main road to the city. She is going to fit it up for a hospital for
crippled children, curables, mostly, though her heart may lead her into
keeping a few of the other sort, if there is no other home for them to go
to. I'm to have the distinguished honour of being surgeon to the place.
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