Perhaps they saw the look of indignation and pity in the editor's face, for the boy said quickly—
“She don't go out EVERY night; last night she went to”—
He stopped suddenly, and both children looked at each other with a half laugh and half cry, and then repeated in hopeless unison, “She's dorn out.”
“When is she coming back again?”
“To-night. But we won't make any more noise.”
“Who brings you your food?” continued the editor, looking at the tray.
“Woberts.”
Evidently Roberts, the night watchman! The editor felt relieved; here was a clue to some explanation. He instantly sat down on the floor between them.
“So that was the dolly that slept in my bed,” he said gayly, taking it up.
God gives helplessness a wonderful intuition of its friends. The children looked up at the face of their grown-up companion, giggled, and then burst into a shrill fit of laughter. He felt that it was the first one they had really indulged in for many days. Nevertheless he said, “Hush!” confidentially; why he scarcely knew, except to intimate to them that he had taken in their situation thoroughly. “Make no noise,” he added softly, “and come into my big room.”