"Well, have it as you will; it does not make much difference. What's to become of him now?"
"That's what I want to know, grandpa. Will you send him to the police-station?"
"Why not? It's for the State to decide what shall be done with such a young ragamuffin. They'll send him to an industrial school, I suppose."
"That is what the policeman said; but, grandpa, that boy, with his sweet face and gentle ways, to mix with boys of the worst sort—"
"Probably he is one of that class himself, Edith. Depend upon it, the young rogue knows the value of those gentle ways. Now what do you want me to do—not adopt the lad, surely?"
"No, grandpa, not that," said Edith, smiling; "but I was thinking, if we could send him to Mr. Mouncey, he would know what to do with him."
"Mouncey! What made you think of him? Upon my word, that's not a bad suggestion. Mouncey's fond of ragamuffins. He'd make something of him, if any one could. But why should we trouble about it? Better leave him to the magistrate."
"Grandpa, that little boy was in my class one Sunday afternoon; I felt strangely drawn to him; I do still. I am sure he is a good boy."
Colonel Carruthers was silent for a few moments. Across his mind had come again the vision of that other boy, with his broad, fair brow, his open, innocent gaze. His face contracted as if with pain. A heavy sigh escaped him ere he said—
"Do not trust too much to appearances, Edie. These sweet, innocent-looking children are very disappointing. This boy will most likely turn out a scoundrel. But I'll think about it; I will see what I can do."