long with Mr. Orton, and let him help you get the
things you need. He kindly says he will."

"There's Anne, father," said Pat, looking toward the little figure
hovering shyly on the outskirts of the group. "Is Anne going, too?"

"This is just a boy's camp, Pat," laughed Mr. Orton. "There isn't any
room for girls in our rough-and-tumble gang."

Mr. Patterson summoned a maid to take Anne to her room. "I'm going to
take Anne to Richmond to-morrow," he explained curtly. "I'll try to run
up and see you, Pat, before I get back to work. Time's getting pretty
scarce, though. Run along and get your rig. Draw on me, Orton, for what
you need. Fit him out O.K."

CHAPTER XIII

Leaving Anne at a Richmond hotel, Mr. Patterson drove to an orphanage on
the outskirts of the city. He had wired the superintendent that he was
coming and had brought letters and papers from the Washington office of
the Associated Charities. He told Miss Farlow, the superintendent, the
story of the child, without mentioning the jewel affair.

"Let them find her out for themselves," he reflected. "I'll not start
her off with a handicap."

As he went out of the bare, spotless sitting-room into the bare,
spotless hall, the children of the 'Home' filed past, two by two, for
their afternoon walk. There were twenty-six sober-faced girls in blue
cotton frocks and broad-brimmed straw hats.

"They take exercise regularly, sir," said the superintendent. "We're
careful with them in all ways. They're well-fed, kept neat, taught good
manners, and have all pains taken with their education and training. We
do our best for them and try to get them good homes."

"I am sure of that." Good heavens!--how he would hate his child to be
one of the twenty-six! Poor little Anne! Mr. Patterson caught himself up
impatiently. He was no more responsible for her than for any, or all, of
the others. If his wife had lived--but he--a widower, whose job kept him
thousands of miles away from home most of the time,--it was unreasonable
to expect him to keep an orphan girl whom his family had picked up. Ugh!
How he'd hate to trot along in that blue-frocked line! "I'm a dawdling
idiot," he said irritatedly to himself. "What am I worrying about? I've
done the sensible thing, the only possible thing. Her own people
deserted her. I've secured her a decent home and honest training. Whew!
It's later than I thought. I'll have to rush to make that four-ten
train."

An hour later, havi