“I was thinking of that, too,” Dearing replied, “and that is why a certain plan occurred to me. There is that big lot of mine right over the fence. Nothing could possibly happen to him there. It is quiet, and there are many things he could amuse himself with. It is really like a little farm, you know. We have chickens, ducks, turkeys, puppies, kittens, pigs, and horses, and even a cow and a calf about the barn, to say nothing of the pigeons that nest in the hay-loft. To a child, judging by my own memory of boyhood, it would be a regular paradise.” “You don't mean that you would allow--that you would--” There was a catch in the young mother's voice; a tinge of anxious pallor crept into her appealing face. “Oh, Wynn, you are too kind! You are thinking only of helping me. There is your uncle and your sister--I could not bear to trust my darling where he might not be--wanted.” “I know my uncle and sister better than you do,” Dearing said. “Margaret has never seen Lionel that I know of, but she would love to make him happy. As for my uncle, he greatly admires the little fellow, and would be delighted to have him come and romp over the place to his heart's content.” “Oh, how you tempt me!” Dora cried, covering her face with her shapely hands. “Of all things, I can think of nothing right now that I'd like better than that. I have been trying to forget Lionel's confinement in this little yard and house--trying to convince myself that he is wholly happy only with mother and me, but it is no use. It is really pitiful to think of. He has a wonderful imagination, and he sometimes sits here on the porch and tries to picture to himself what the inside of a big house like yours is. He thinks you all must be kings and princes like those in the fairy-tales we read to him. He asked me one day if we'd ever have a home like yours, and when I told him I didn't think so, he answered, 'Then God isn't so very good, after all, is He?' I tried to get him to explain what he meant, but he only shook his head and went to play in the yard.” At this moment the boy himself came from his grandmother's room, along the passage, and out to them. “She is still asleep,” he announced, gravely. “I drew the netting over her face, so that the flies won't wake her.” “That's right--that's a good boy.” Dearing rested his strong hand on the golden head and looked down into the child's face, and then he laughed as he caught the boy's arm and taught him how to contract his muscles.