It cut me up to have to lie to your little girl when she recognized me at Midvale--I guess I deserve all that's coming to me! I'm sorry about that pin Chris gave to Polly. The other fellow went through those rooms, and, of course, took the pansy with the rest. I knew it soon as I spied it, and was going to send it back to her; but they didn't give me time enough, and now it is gone. Perhaps you will think it is just as well, for it was swiped to start with. Buy her another, something pretty, and I'll foot the bill. You needn't be afraid of the money--it is as honest as yours. It was left the boy by his mother, and I have never touched it, so there's quite a neat little sum now. Charge me whatever you please for the kid's board. I'm willing to leave it to you, and I will see that you are paid promptly every month. If you'll only take care of him, and bring him up right, and not let him know that his father is a criminal, I will bless you to my last breath--as if my blessing could be worth anything to such a man as you! Well, the best it is you shall have it, and that is all I can do. If it hadn't been for Chris and his faith in me I should have gone to hell long ago--I've been down to the gates, as it was. It isn't the fault of my rearing,--my folks were all right, they trained me, they educated me, they loved me. I am the first to sully the name, but I've kept the name itself out of the mud as much as possible. Write to Peter Connell, New York, and I shall get the word. Think what it would mean to you to be shut away from your little girl, never to look on her for two long years, with no decent friend to care for her--and then keep my little Chris! Oh, Doctor, keep him, and don't let him know about me! Good-bye. Richard Morrow was wise when in his extremity he turned to Dr. Dudley. The Doctor's heart was big and always ready to open its door to anybody in distress of body or mind. Of course, little Chris stayed--at the hospital until he was strong again, then in the physician's own home. The lad grieved for his father, Polly often finding him in some obscure corner reading over with tears his latest note from "daddy." "I can't make it seem right that he doesn't come to see me just once," he complained to Polly. "I should think he might get away from his business for a little tiny while,--ten minutes or so,--even if he went back on the next train. It isn't a bit like daddy,--not a single bit!" And Polly, able to understand it no better than he, would strive to comfort him. Sometimes Mrs. Dudley wondered if, after all, it would not have been really kinder to tell the little lad the truth.