In about a week Dick had completed arrangements with the committee in New York, the president of which wrote to thank him for aiding in the work they were doing. Dick was told that twenty-five youngsters, ten boys and fifteen girls, none of whom had ever been to the country before, would be sent to Sunnyside in charge of a matron. Dick had forwarded money to buy the tickets, and had planned with Foster to have a big stage meet the train on which the "fresh-air kids," as he called them, would arrive at the nearest station to the country home.
"Well, dad," remarked Dick, the day before the waifs from New York were to arrive, "you've seen the last of me for a week."
"Why; where are you going?"
"To Sunnyside. I want to see that the kids are started right, and I think I'll stay about a week to see that they have a good time. I'll take my runabout, and I can come back in a hurry if I need to. I'll bring a batch over to see you, maybe."
"Do," said Mr. Hamilton. "I like children. Poor things! I hope the trip to the country does them good."
Dick had read about fresh-air children who were much impressed by their first visit to the country, but this did not prepare him for the awed look on the faces of the twenty-five as they tumbled from the train at the little country depot, and made for the waiting stage.
"Now, children," said the matron, as Dick came up and introduced himself, "this is the gentleman who was so kind as to bring you out to this beautiful place," and she shook hands with the millionaire's son.
"Is dat de rich guy?" asked one boy, but though his words might sound disrespectful he did not intend them so.
"Hush!" exclaimed a girl in a much-patched red dress. "He'll hear you."
"What do I care! If I wuz as rich as him I wouldn't care who knowed it," retorted the boy.