"Indeed, I wouldn't rather have it used for cripples," cried Rob. "The one thing I ever wanted to do in this world--except to found a home for dogs and cats and horses--is to give girls a chance, girls who would use the chance and are hungry for it. To tell the truth I have drifted into cripples because Mr. Baldwin's daughter made me--she is the one who started all this. I have helped her, because, after all, I am sorry for maimed little things in those awful tenements and when a good cause takes hold of one and pulls one's hands--well, of course, you can't make a fist! But little girls, like Polly, or even bigger, appeal to me most. I don't want one penny of the fund for cripples, Mr. Armstrong. I haven't forgotten the days before you bought the invention, and how hungry I was for a chance, even with such people as my mother and the father you did not know. So I can imagine how girls feel who long for education and who have no home, or worse than none." "I might have known that you would have cared more for minds and souls than for bodies, you strong, warm, sensitive child!" said Mr. Armstrong. "And I see that your quiet sister sympathizes with you, though I suspect that she dearly loves to comfort and cuddle suffering bodies. Now see here; about your cripple home," added Mr. Armstrong rising. "How much money have you?" "We don't know yet, but enough to take care of three or four children anyway, if only we had a house for them," said Rob. "You tell me that this Flanders--Flinders'--farm is not rented. Why not hire that, and begin? I'll pay the rent, and if the work is inspired it will grow, and something else will come from this small beginning. If not, no harm is done; you have made your experiment, and will turn your energies to the next work at hand. What say you?" And Mr. Armstrong paused, looking from Wythie to Rob, excluding the mother as if he wanted to deal here with the girls only. "Well, why did we never once think of the Flinders' place?" gasped Wythie. "That would help the Flinders, as well as start our home. It is a wonderful idea, Mr. Armstrong!" "The farm would rent for a hundred a year," said Rob, eying their would-be benefactor doubtfully. "Very probably. Well, will you accept my offer?" asked Mr. Armstrong. "Oh, you kindest of fairy godfathers!" cried Rob, laughing, yet very much in earnest. "I should think we would accept it, and bless you every day. We will call the farm the Sweet William Farm," she added slyly.