the child. Come here, Danny," and the boy
came toward her.

Von Barwig had seen no one but her. The little boy had remained in the
corner of the room, where the shadow of evening made it too dark to
distinguish the outline of his form.

"Ah, the boy?" he said with a tone or disappointment in his voice.
"Not you, the boy? He needs instruction?" Then he looked at her
again. It was too dark for him to see the colour of her eyes. He went
to the door. "Jenny," he called, only he pronounced it "Chenny"; "a
lamp if you please."

"How courteous and dignified his manner is!" thought Miss Stanton,
"even in the most commonplace and trivial details of life a man's
breeding shows itself."

"We think the boy is a genius," she said aloud, "but his parents are
very poor and cannot afford to pay for his tuition."

"It is a poor neighbourhood," said Von Barwig, "but there will be no
charge. I will teach him for--for you!" He had already forgotten that
he had decided to take no more pupils.

"I have taken charge of his future," said Miss Stanton pointedly; "and
of course shall defray all the expense of his tuition myself. I have
the consent of his parents----"

Jenny came in with a large lamp and placed it on the piano. Von Barwig
could now see his visitor's face, and his heart beat rapidly.

"Tell me," he said, forcing himself to be calm, "your father and
mother? Are they----?"

Miss Stanton drew herself up slightly. "I am speaking of his parents,"
she said.

"Yes, his parents, of course! Yes, but your father--your mother," he
asked insistently. "Is she--is she--living?"

The deep earnestness and anxiety with which Von Barwig put this
question made it clear to Miss Stanton that it was not merely idle
curiosity that prompted him to ask, so stifling her first impulse to
ignore the question altogether she replied rather abruptly:

"No, she is not living." Then she added formally, "but that is quite
apart from the subject we are discussing."

Von Barwig did not hear the latter part of her answer. His eyes were
riveted on her. He could only repeat, "Dead--dead." Then he looked at
her and slowly shook his head in mournful tenderness, repeating the
words, "Dead--dead."

To her own surprise Miss Stanton did not resent this sympathy.

"I take an especial interest in this boy because his sister is one of
the maids in my father's home," she began.

Von Barwig's face fell. "Ah," he said, "you have a father.