“Sometimes I can think it out right, and sometimes I can’t. I remember I had a mother once--pretty, like you--but different. She had light hair and such nice blue eyes. She was awful pretty. And I had a father, too; and he was big and handsome. We used to ride in a carriage. Sometimes I can remember the big Park, and all the people walking around and in carriages, and then I forget. Then I remember that my father quarreled a lot with my mother and she cried lots, and one day he was going to hit her, and I ran between them and he struck me instead. Then something fell out of my head that they remember with. I guess it was when the blood ran so. Don’t you think so?” “Poor boy! Poor little Loney!” said Dora, while great tears ran down her rosy cheeks and fell on the bright curls of the little waif. He continued, after a short silence: “The next I remember, I was in a place where there were lots of children. I was there a long time. Then I wanted my mother so bad that I ran away. They searched for me and nearly found me, but I hid in a box, and one of the men said, ‘Let him go. He hasn’t any sense, anyway.’” The little fellow broke down and sobbed pitifully, while Dora said: “Don’t cry, Loney. Don’t cry. We will take good care of you.” “And then I sold papers and half-starved. The other boys kicked me around a lot and made fun of me ’cause I couldn’t remember. And they named me Loney, and then I came here; and your father lets me run errands--and--that’s all.” “Don’t you worry, Loney. You know what my father says, that when business picks up a little he will take you to the good doctor and see if you can’t be cured, so you will remember.” “That’s hard for me to think out, Dora.” “Why hard? What do you mean?” “I am nothing to your father. He is poor, and it seems so funny, for he is--is----” “A Jew. Say it, Loney. Don’t be afraid. A Jew can be a good man, an honest one, a good father, and a good citizen. He loves me, his daughter, and he has a heart--a big one--for all in need. He has pity for them. You are mistaken if you think differently. I have seen him divide his last crust with the hungry--yes, and give them the largest share. Oh, Loney, my father is good.” “You are right. He has divided with me; and, Dora, some day God will bless him for it.”