ts of these boys had been born and brought up near the
seacoast of New England, and not a few marine figures of speech were
mingled in the family talk. So Charlie took up the parable and
gloomily said: "We are as good as castaways in this big ocean of a
city, with never a soul to throw us a spar or give us a hand. I never
felt so blue in all my life. Look at those children playing in that
dooryard. Pretty poor-looking children they are; but they've got a
home over their heads to-night. We haven't."

"Oh, pshaw, Charlie!" broke in Sandy; "why will you always look on the
dark side of things? I know it's real lonesome here in a strange city,
and away from our own folks. But they are not so far away but what we
can get to them after a while. And we have got a roof over our heads
for to-night, anyway; the Planters' is good enough for me; if you
want anything better, you will have to get outside of St. Louis for
it; and, what is more, they are not going to dun us for our board bill
until after to-day. I'm clean beat out traipsing around this town, and
I give you two fellows notice that I am not going to stir a step out
of the hotel to-night. Unless it is to go to church," he added by way
of postscript.

They did go to church that night, after they had had their supper. It
was a big, comfortable, and roomy church, and the lads were shown into
a corner pew under the gallery, where they were not conspicuous. The
music of choir and organ was soothing and comforting. One of the tunes
sung was "Dundee," and each boy thought of their singing the song of
"The Kansas Emigrants," as the warbling measures drifted down to them
from the organ-loft, lifting their hearts with thoughts that the
strangers about them knew nothing of. The preacher's text was "In my
father's house are many mansions." Then they looked at each other
again, as if to say, "That's a nice text for three homeless boys in a
strange city." But nobody even so much as whispered.

Later on in the sermon, when the preacher touched a tender chord in
Oscar's heart, alluding to home and friends, and to those who wander
far from both, the lad, with a little moisture in his eyes, turned to
look at Sandy. He was fast asleep in his snug corner. Oscar made a
motion to wake him, but Charlie leaned over and said, "Leave the poor
boy alone. He's tired with his long tramp to-day." When they went out
after the service was over, Oscar rallied Sandy on his sleeping in
church, and the la