Sally told him the story of the Mulvaneys. When she finished speaking there was silence for a moment. "Guess he is queer," thought Sally. Mr. Hodgkins's first remark was unsatisfactory, to say the least.
"Oom—um—I dunno," he murmured.
"Is it about the rent?" Sally inquired.
"Ooom—um," replied Mr. Hodgkins.
"Unless you wanted too much money," continued the child, "I think she could manage it. She has to pay rent where they live now."
At that Welcome Hodgkins found his voice. "It's the children," he confessed. "They could have the house and welcome, but I can't say as I relish having the young savages raising Cain on my farm."
"It seems to me they could be trained," faltered Sally.
Something in her tone troubled Welcome Hodgkins. "Come with me and see the house," he suggested, "and we'll consider the matter."
For the first time in years spring sunshine streamed across the threshold of the lonely dwelling among the bushes. Once more the old rooms echoed a childish voice and footsteps from the outside world.
"It's not a bad sort of a house after all," remarked the owner, having lighted the lamp he carried. "Musty and damp now to be sure, but it's roomy and might easily be repaired. Well, I dunno, let them come and if they misbehave, we'll train them."