He pointed across the pond to the old house beyond the mill, whose outlines were visible through the openings in the elms; and, as he gazed upon it with that intense longing so touching in a child's face, his sobs increased. "Stanley, that is not your home now. Other people live there, and you have no right to come back. Why did you run away from the Asylum? Did they treat you unkindly?" "No,--yes. They whipped me because I cried and said I hated to stay there, and wanted to come home." Salome looked at the soiled, torn clothes, and sorrowful face; and, bursting into tears, she bent forward and drew her brother to her bosom. He put his arms around her neck, and kissed her cheek several times, saying, softly and coaxingly,-- "Sister Salome, you won't send me back, will you? Please let me stay with you, and I will be a good boy." For some minutes she was unable to reply, and wept silently as she smoothed the tangled hair back from the child's white forehead and pressed her lips to it. "Stanley, how is Jessie? Where did you leave her?" "She is well, and I left her at the Asylum. She had a long cry the night I ran away, and said she wanted to see you, and she thought you had forgotten us both. You know, Salome, it is over a year since you came to see us, and Jessie and I are so lonesome there, we hate the place." "What were you crying so bitterly about when I found you, just now?" "I am so hungry, and the man who lives yonder at home drove me away. He said I was prowling around to steal something, and if he saw me there any more he would shoot me. I ate my last piece of biscuit yesterday." "Why did you not come to me instead of the miller?" "I was afraid you would send me back to the Asylum; but you won't,--I know you won't, Salome." "Suppose I had not happened to hear you crying,--what would have become of you? Did you intend to starve here in the swamp?" "I thought I would wait till the miller left home, and then beg his wife to give me some bread, and, if I could get nothing, I was going to pull up some carrots that I saw growing in a field back of the house. Oh, Salome, I am so hungry and so tired!" She sat down on a heap of last year's leaves, which autumn winds and winter rains had driven against the trunk of a decayed and fallen sweet-gum, and, drawing the weary head with its shock of matted yellow curls to her lap, she covered her own face with her hands to hide the hot tears that streamed over her cheeks. "Salome, are you very mad with me?" "Yes, Stanley; you have behaved very badly, and I don't know what I ought to do with you." He tried to put aside one of her shielding hands, and failing, wound his arms around her waist, and nestled as close as possible. "Sister, please let me stay and live with you, and I promise--I declare--I will be a good boy." "Poor little fellow! You don't in the least know what you are talking about. How can you live with me when I have no home, and not a dollar?"