“Those are nice little things,” said Rock as he watched the two children depart.
“That they are, Mr. Rock,” returned John.
“I wonder where they live,” said Rock.
“In one of the tenements beyond the square, so they tell me.”
“Pshaw! that’s not a very nice place, and those children seem neat and well-behaved, and they speak well, too.”
“They’re fatherless,” said John, “and it’s likely their mother has a hard time to get along, and can afford to live nowhere else, but they’re different from most of the gang down that way; I saw that the first day when they stood by the gate and looked in.” And he told Rock of how he had first met the children.
“I’m going to learn more about them,” Rock declared. “I’ll be here when they come back after school. That little girl’s face is a perfect sunbeam when she smiles, and the boy is a manly, honest little fellow.”
True to his word Rock was there when the children returned.
“Where do you live?” he asked them.
“On Orchard Street,” they told him.