"They are orphans. Their name is Roy, though they are not my relatives, or so distant that it matters nothing. But their father was a very good friend of mine, which matters a great deal. He died suddenly, and his wife soon after, leaving their affairs in great confusion. Hearing this, far up in the Australian bush, where I have been a sheep-farmer for some years, I came round by Shanghai, but too late to do more than take these younger boys and bring them home. The rest of the family are disposed of. These two will be henceforward mine. That is all." A very little "all", and wholly about other people; scarcely a word about himself. Yet he seemed to think it sufficient, and as if she had no possible interest in hearing more. Cursorily he mentioned having received her letter, which was "friendly and kind;" that it had followed him to Australia, and then back to Shanghai. But his return home seemed to have been entirely without reference to it--or to her. So she let all pass, and accepted things as they were. It was enough. When a ship-wrecked man sees land--ever so barren a land, ever so desolate a shore--he does not argue within himself, "Is this my haven?" he simply puts into it, and lets himself be drifted ashore. It took but a few minutes more to explain further what Mr. Roy wanted--a home for his two "poor little fellows." "They are so young still--and they have lost their mother. They would do very well in their classes here, if some kind woman would take them and look after them. I felt, if the Miss Williams I heard of were really the Miss Williams I used to know, I could trust them to her, more than to any woman I ever knew." "Thank you." And then she explained that she had already two girls in charge. She could say nothing till she had consulted them. In the mean time-- Just then the bell sounded. The world was going on just as usual--this strange, commonplace, busy, regardless world! "I beg your pardon for intruding on your time so long," said Mr. Roy, rising. "I will leave you to consider the question, and you will let me know as soon as you can. I am staying at the hotel here, and shall remain until I can leave my boys settled. Good evening." Again she felt the grasp of the hand: that ghostly touch, so vivid in dreams for these years, and now a warm living reality. It was too much. She could not bear it. "If you would care to stay," she said--and though it was too dark to see her, he must have heard the faint tremble in her voice--"our tea is ready. Let me introduce you to my girls, and they can make friends with your little boys."