I never saw the bedstead anywhere else. It will
soon be thirty years since I came here. Do you care to go into any of
the other rooms?"

"No, thank you."

They returned to the veranda. "Won't you sit down?" the old woman
asked.

"No, I've but a few moments to stay. By the way, some time ago I met a
man who said that he had lived here when a child. I was trying to
think of his name. Oh, it was a man named Henry DeGolyer, I believe.
Do you remember him?"

"Yes, but it was a long time ago. I heard somebody say that he lived
in the city here, but he never came out to see us. Oh, yes, I remember
him. He was a stupid little thing, but that didn't keep him from being
mean. He oughtn't to have been taken in here, for he had a father."

"Did you know his father?"

"Who? John DeGolyer? I reckon I did, and he wa'n't no manner account,
nuther. He had sense enough, but he throw himself away with liquor. He
painted a picture of my youngest sister, and everybody said that it
favored her mightily, but John wa'n't no manner account."

"Do you remember his wife?"

"Not much. He married a young creature down the river and broke her
heart, folks said."

"Did you ever see her?"

His voice had suddenly changed, and the old woman looked sharply at
him.

"Yes, several times. She was a tall, frail, black-eyed creature, and
she might have done well if she hadn't ever met John DeGolyer. But
won't you sit down?"

"No, thank you, I'm going now. You are the matron, I presume."

"Yes, sir--have been now for I hardly know how long."

"If I send some presents to the children will you see that they are
properly distributed?"

"Yes, but for goodness' sake don't send any drums or horns."

"I won't. How many boys have you?"

"Well, we've got a good many, I can tell you. You see, this isn't a
regular foundlings' home. We take up poor children from most,
everywhere. We've got ninety-three boys."

And how many girls?"

"We've got a good many of them, too, I can tell you.
Seventy-odd--seventy-five, I think."

"All right. Now don't forget your promise. Good day, madam."

He went to a large toy-shop and began to buy in a way that appeared
likely to exhaust the stock.

"Where do you live?" asked the proprietor of the shop.

"In Chicago."

"What, you ain't going to ship these toys there and try to make
anything on them, are you?"

"No; I want them sent out to the Foundlings' Home. What's your bill?"

The man figured up four hu