The eccentric old gentleman hung his head, too much confused even to grumble at her. "How guilty you look!" laughed Marion. "You took me in, once upon a time." "Aye! aye! Frightened you well, that's some comfort." "I don't think I was much frightened, though I confess I considered your manner rather rough. I recollect well that I pitied you for being so suspicious of everybody." He sprang from the floor, shouting,— "Suspicious, eh? Suspicious, is it? Pitied me, did you? If any one else had dared,—well, I'm an old fool, anyway." He sat down and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, looking so pale and hurt that Marion pitied him more than ever. She drew a chair close to his side and said, soothingly,— "Now that we understand each other, I want to tell you a story,— a true one. You know Hepsey and I go out sometimes to see our friends in the back alleys." "Humph! Yes,—and bring home fevers, and all that." "One day I heard a woman crying,—and true enough she had cause. Her boy had been crushed by a wheel which ran over his legs; and there he lay on a pile of straw, in a fainting fit. I tried to bring him to while Hepsey went for an ambulance, and we soon had him in the care of the doctor, on his way to the hospital. Hepsey and I followed with the mother. To make a long story short, the injury was so great that Neddy—that's his name—had both his legs amputated just above the knees, and he is well again. Now the question is, What can he do to earn his living? He's a dear, patient little fellow, and he has made friends of everybody at the hospital. One of the doctors has given me five dollars for—" Mr. Lambert threw down his cane, and pulled out his purse again. "No, I don't want money now, I want advice. He can't earn his living yet awhile; but what can he be fitted for?" "I'll get him a place in a printing-office." In his excitement, Mr. Lambert forgot to grumble. His voice was natural and agreeable. "Just the thing! But isn't he too young,—he's only nine?" "That's a fault easily cured. He must be put into the Five Points Mission School till he's twelve,—learn to read and spell, and all that sort of thing. Where is he?" "In the hospital. Will you go with me to see him?" "Certainly not. Why should I go? I've nothing to do with it, any way. You wanted advice and I gave it,—that's all. Don't be nonsensical now," putting another bill stealthily on the table. "What did you say the fellow's name is?" "Neddy Carter. He isn't strong enough to be carried to that old, tumble-down attic, and so I have engaged a friend to take him home with her till he can have his artificial legs made. That's what the doctor subscribed five dollars for."