"I do not understand you at all, Miss Doane; or at least I hope I am mistaken in your meaning." "I talk plain American." "I have been waiting for you to send those children that have been left here to the proper authorities." "Well, I'm an authority--or at least I seem to be one since I got all this money; and no one ain't ever said I wasn't proper." "You are evading the question. I have said with the advent of each child that it should be sent, along with the others, to the police. They would dispose of them in the homes ordained for them." "I ain't a Presbyterian, Mr. Thornton, and I don't believe in predestination and foreordination. Them babies of mine was never ordained for a home--the kind you mean; and I won't put 'em there. I got room and I got money to feed 'em and clothe 'em; so why shouldn't I keep 'em?" "It is quite impossible, _quite_ impossible!" "Why impossible?" "Why--why--my late client, Mr. Elias Doane--" "Now, don't throw him in my teeth again. Elias Doane don't care whether I keep babies or poodle dogs, and I like babies best. Now, don't let's quarrel, Mr. Thornton," as she saw him give an exasperated shake of his head and rise as if to go. "Set still and talk it over with me calm like. Can't you see _my_ side to it? I'm old and I'm lonesome, and I've always wanted babies but the Lord didn't see fit to let me have 'em, and now He's sent me these. I feel that I'd be a goin' against His plans if I didn't keep 'em. My old heart's jest full of love that's goin' to waste, and I want to give it to some one, and," laughing, "I can't waste much of it on you, can I? I don't want to die with it all shet up inside of me. I want to love these babies and learn 'em to love me. Why, what chance will a baby brung up in a 'home' have to know about love? How can they ever be learnt of the love of God when they grow up, if they don't learn something about love when they're little. They won't know the word. Don't be so set against it, Mr. Thornton"--she looked at him pleadingly for a moment, then her eyes twinkled--"though it won't do you much good as I'm set on this and I'm goin' to do it. Your late client, Mr. Elias Doane, said, 'Spend my money, Drusilla, in your own way'; and I'm takin' him at his word." Mr. Thornton rose. "Nothin more can be said then; but it is a disgrace to the neighborhood to have a home for waifs come to it." Drusilla flushed hotly. "Don't you call it that; and don't you call it a 'home'! It's a home, but not the kind you mean, and I won't hear it called that." "I wash my hands of the affair. You will get into trouble, and when you do you may call on me." Drusilla rose and laid her hand on Mr. Thornton's arm. "I'm sure to get into trouble," she said. "I always was a hand to do that. But when I do you'll be the true, kind friend I know you are, and help me out." Mr. Thornton smiled, against his will, as he looked down into the earnest face of the little old lady. He patted the hand on his arm.