“Can he come to the door?” Don went on, seeing that she did not intend to say anything more.
“No, he can’t. He ain’t walked for seven years,” was the startling answer. “He’s crippled!”
“Oh,” exclaimed Don. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Then I suppose I can’t see him?”
“Sure you can, if you’ll come upstairs,” the girl said. “On business, is it?”
“Yes,” answered Don.
The girl led the way up a flight of dark stairs into a small room which was hot and in which a variety of cooking odors hung in the air. An old man was sitting in a wheel chair near a window, looking out into the gathering darkness of the street below. He had a pale face and white hair, and Don could see that his lower limbs were thin and gathered up.
“Somebody here to see you on business, pa,” said the girl, and to Don’s relief she quit the room at once.
Mulford looked curiously at Don, who was not certain what to do. He had not expected to find the former janitor a cripple and he wondered if he should question a man in this condition. Mulford spoke up in a voice that was full and strong.
“What did you wish to see me about, young man?” he asked. “Sit down, won’t you?”
Don sat down facing the man. “I am from Woodcrest School, Mr. Mulford,” he began. “I understand that you were once janitor there, and I came to see you about something that happened years ago. But perhaps I had better not say anything about it. I didn’t expect—didn’t——”