“Why, Lorimer!” he exclaimed. “Where have you dropped from? I haven’t seen you in an age—but I’m glad, old fellow; I was feeling rather down; I should have had a gay presentiment.” 217
“Remembering old times when we were both bloated aristocrats, favorites with the gods.”
“And are now earning daily bread,” laughed the doctor. “At least I am and trying to help suffering humanity. Isn’t that neatly put?”
“I don’t know whether I can claim all that; now and then I get some poor fellow’s affairs out of a snarl and make him pay for it, and one end of something has drifted here to Newton and I’m after that, but I thought I’d hunt you up first. I’ve been here a good half hour.”
“And supper is ready in the house. Then we will have a good hour before any one drops in. Come in,” and he opened a side door into a hall.
There were three persons at the table, an elderly couple and a woman in the thirties. They made Mr. Lorimer cordially welcome and the supper was inviting. The guest asked some questions about Newton which was a quiet rather old fashioned town quite set in its ways.
Afterward they settled themselves comfortably in the office.
“I’ve come to hunt up some one—do you 218 know anything about a Bethany Home for orphans, girls, I believe.”
Dr. Richards roused from his lazy position. “Yes, I know about it, though I never been on the staff. Why?”
“I want to learn about a child placed there four or five years ago. Let me see,” referring to a memorandum, “name, Marilla Bond; mother and father died in this town.”