nstead of eating, the boy held out the cake to
his hostess.

"Cut it in half, please," he said; "fair halves."

"What for?"

"I'm going to eat one bit; t'other's for Billy Jingle. He's had
measles, and been very bad, and he's such a good chap."

"You shall have a piece to send to your schoolfellow," said Helen, with
her eyes a little moist now, for the boy's generous spirit was gaining
upon her, and she looked at him with more interest than she had
displayed a few minutes before.

The boy took a tremendous bite, and began to munch as he sat upon a
velvet-covered hassock; but he jumped up directly, and held out the
bitten cake again, to say, with his mouth full--

"Oh, do have a bit. It's lovely."

Helen smiled, and laid her hand upon the boy's shoulder, as she shook
her head, when to her surprise he caught the soft white hand in his
left, gazed hard at it, and then pressed it against his cheek, making a
soft purring noise, no bad imitation of a cat.

Then he sat eating and holding the hand which was not taken away, till,
as the little stranger munched on in the full enjoyment of the wondrous
novelty, the doctor said sharply, "Helen, come here."

The boy stared, but went on eating, and the doctor's daughter crossed
the room to where her father sat.

CHAPTER SIX.

A QUICKSILVER GLOBULE.

"Well, papa?" she said, looking into his face in a half-amused way.

"Well, Helen," said the doctor, taking her hand and drawing her to him;
"about this boy?"

"Yes, dear. You have made up your mind to adopt and bring one up," she
said, in a low tone which the lad could not hear.

"Yes," said the doctor, taking his tone from her, "to turn the raw
material into the polished cultured article."

"But of course you will take this one back, and select another!"

"And pray why!" said the doctor sharply.

"I thought--I thought--" faltered Helen.

"Oh, nonsense! Better for proving my theory."

"Yes, papa, but--"

"A little wild and rough, that's all; boy-like; high-spirited; right
stuff in him."

"No doubt, papa; but he is so very rough."

"Then we'll use plenty of sand-paper and make him smooth. Moral
sand-paper. Capital boy, my dear. Had a deal of trouble in getting
him--by George! the young wolf! He has finished that cake."

"Then you really mean to keep him, papa?" said Helen, glancing at the
boy, where he sat diligently picking up a few crumbs and a currant which
he had dropped.

"Mean to keep hi