ings. Perhaps his mother had been a Diana sort
of mother.

"Oh, Thomas," I thought, "I must send you back your screw." I didn't
care what any one said--he should have it.

If he had had a mother, it wouldn't have mattered, because she would
have known it was a screw he had lost, and she would have known just
what comfort he would have needed; whereas a Fraulein would know nothing
about a screw, beyond the German for it, and the gender, of course. And
of what use is that to a child? It may sound very unconventional, and I
suppose it was so, to go to a strange house and ask for Thomas, and my
only excuse a small screw. But still I went!

I pictured a lonely child in a large house with a Fraulein and a nurse,
perhaps two; those I could face. A tall, sad father I had never thought
of! I am afraid I am not suited for the profession, I am too impulsive.

I rang the bell. The door was opened by a solemn man-servant, who did
not show the surprise he must have felt when I asked for Master Thomas.
Another, still more solemn, showed me into a downstairs room. I refused
to give my name, and a very large, serious Thomas rose from a chair as I
was ushered in, "A lady to see Master Thomas." So my errand was in part
explained, but the part left to tell was by far the most difficult. If
only Thomas had lost anything but a screw! No father could be expected
to know how it had been treasured. Supposing Thomas had been crying
because he had a pain, which sometimes comes to children after tea?
Supposing he hadn't been crying for his screw at all? Supposing he
repudiated all knowledge of it?

But here I was, screw in hand, and my story to tell. I told it. I was
grateful to the tall, sad Thomas for being so solemn, and not even
smiling, when I mentioned the screw. He said he was very grateful for my
kindness, and he went so far as to say he was sure Thomas had valued the
screw.

While some one was coming, for whom he had rung, he told me that when he
had taken Thomas to the Zoo, the only thing which he was really excited
about was the mouse in the elephant's house! Somehow or other that
little story put me at my ease, for it showed that the big Thomas at
least understood in part the mind of a child.

A nurse, not sad-looking I was glad to see, came in answer to the bell,
and the big Thomas asked if the little Thomas had lost a screw? In that
I was disappointed, the best nurse in the world might not know of a
screw. But the big Thomas