"Don't you sometimes feel unhappy because you are not the boy you used to be?"
"No," said the Poker. "I am not because Rollo makes a better boy than I was. He is a contented boy and I was not."
"But don't you miss your father and mother?" queried Tom.
"Of course not," said the Poker, "because the Fairy was good enough to have me made into the Poker used in their new house. My parents moved away from the railroad just after Rollo became me, and built themselves a new house, and of course they had to have a new Poker to go with it—so I really live home, you see, with them."
A curious light came into Tom's eyes.
"Mr. Poker," said he. "Who was this boy you used to be?"
"Tom," said the Poker.
"I'm not Rollo," roared Tom, starting up.
"Nobody said you were," retorted the Poker. "You are Dormy. Tom is Rollo—but, I say, here come the Andirons and the Bellows."