n, as he brought his big, baseball hands
down on his fat knees. "I don't blame him. Don't you just think children
are about the nicest things in this world?"

Emma was silent. She had expressed other sentiments too recently. Still
she smiled. And he went on:

"Oh, wow!--they're mighty fine to have around."

But Mr. Brotherton was restless after that, and when the clock was
striking ten he was in the hall. He left as he had gone for a dozen
years. And the young woman stood watching him through the glass of the
door, a big, strong, handsome man--who strode down the walk with
clicking heels of pride, and she turned away sadly and hurried upstairs.

"Martha," she asked, as she took down her hair, "was it ordained in the
beginning of the world that all school teachers would have to take
widowers?"

And without hearing the answer, she put out the light.

Mr. Brotherton, stalking--not altogether unconsciously down the walk,
turned into the street and as he went down the hill, he was aware that a
boy was overtaking him. He let the boy catch up with him. "Oh, Mr.
Brotherton," cried the boy, "I've been looking for you!"

"Well, here I am; what's the trouble?"

"Grant sent me," returned the boy, "to ask you if he could see you at
eight o'clock to-morrow morning at the store?"

Brotherton looked the boy over and exclaimed:

"Grant?" and then, "Oh--why, Kenyon, I didn't know you. You are
certainly that human bean-stalk, son. Let's take a look at you. Well,
say--" Mr. Brotherton stopped and backed up and paused for dramatic
effect. Then he exploded: "Say, boy, if I had you in an olive wood
frame, I could get $2.75 or $3.00 for you as Narcissus or a boy Adonis!
You surely are the angel child!"

The boy's great black eyes shone up at the man with something wistful
and dream-like in them that only his large, sensitive mouth seemed to
comprehend. For the rest of the child's face was boy--boy in early
adolescence. The boy answered simply:

"Grant said to tell you that he expects the break to-morrow and is
anxious to see you."

Mr. Brotherton looked at the boy again--the eyes haunted the man--he
could not place them, yet they were familiar to him.

"Where you been, kid?" he asked. "I thought you were in Boston,
studying."

"It's vacation, sir," answered Kenyon.

Brotherton pulled the lad up under the next corner electric lamp and
again gazed at him. Then Mr. Brotherton remembered where he had seen the
eyes. The second