Ah, I know what I desire to do! There is counsel in the old books, after all.
I will have in the girl Alicia, and see what I can glean. She was brought up without kith or kin of her own. And though an institution is more of a machine than a good school, still those who had the rearing of her were total strangers. There might be some gleam of suggestion in that.
Alicia has been here.
"Come, child, sit down," I invited her, observing that she still displayed a tendency to stand in awe of me. "I wish to ask you some questions." But her tense little face was still haunted by a vague fear. "It's about the children," I added, and she seemed somewhat more at ease on the edge of her chair.
"How long were you at that Home—in Sullivan County?" I began, grinning by way of ingratiating myself.
"Ever since I can remember, sir," she answered.
"Were they kind to you?"
"Oh, yes, sir."
"How kind?—What did they do for you?"
"They gave us food and—and medicine when we were sick. And on Christmas we had a tree. Only nobody ever came to see me. I always looked out of the window for somebody to come. But no one came."