The dinner was eaten, and cleared away. At seven there was no Kid. At eight the other children went to bed without him. At nine o’clock Jack returned with no news. Even he showed anxiety as Barbara met him at the door with expectant face. “Nobody has seen a glimpse of him,” he reported. “I’ve been the round of his intimates, and to all of his pet resorts, and I’ve scoured the town. I don’t know what else to do.” There was a noise on the front porch. A slow, halting step came up the stairs. Barbara rushed toward the door. “Careful, now,” cautioned Jack. “That’s the Kid, all right Don’t you greet him with outstretched arms.” But the caution was not necessary. All of the pent-up anxiety turned into wrath as Barbara became sure of the step. Her heart hardened toward the small offender as she hastily made her plans for his reception. In response to the second knock at the door, she answered the summons. “Who’s there?” she asked, without opening the screen. “It’s me,” said a still, small voice. “What do you want?” “Want to come in.” “Well, you can’t come in. I don’t let strange men into my house at this time of night.” There was a pause on the front step as the little lad wearily shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then he knocked again. “Want to get in.” Jack looked at Barbara, warningly. “I can’t let you in,” she said; “I’m alone in the house; my father and mother are away from home, and I never let strangers in when I’m alone.” “I’m not strangers; I’m Charles.” “Charles wouldn’t be out at this time of night,” remarked Barbara, impersonally. “I’m hungry,” said the Kid. There was a wistfulness in the voice that touched all the mother in the girl. “Well, I never turn any tramp away hungry,” she said; “I’ll give you some bread and milk, but then you’ll have to go.” She unlocked the door, and surveyed her small brother chillingly. The Kid had evidently made a day of it. His cap was gone, his shoestrings were untied, his face and hands were streaked with dirt, and one shirt-waist sleeve was torn away. “Goodness, how dirty!” she said. “There is a place set at the table for our own little boy, but he’s a clean child, and I can’t let you have it as you are now. You’ll have to wash, first. Go up those stairs, and you’ll find a bathroom, the first room to the left. Wash your hands and face, and then come down. I’ll give you something to eat before you go.” The Kid looked at Barbara steadily. Wonderment, doubt, and understanding were expressed in turn on his round face. He turned without a word, his small fat legs climbed the stairway, and his dirty little figure disappeared inside the bathroom door. His sister for the first time ventured a look at Jack. “Bravo, Bernhardt!” he said.