“Well, is he to be depended upon?”
“I think so; but we cannot guarantee it. You know what has been the past life of our boys; how they have been brought up in neglect and privation in the city streets, subject to little restraint, and without careful instruction. You can’t expect them to be models of all the virtues.”
“No, I suppose not!”
“But I can tell you this—that among the thousands whom we place in Western homes, there are few who do us discredit by being guilty of criminal offenses. They may at times be mischievous, as most boys in all conditions are, and with whatever advantages. There are few who show themselves really bad.”
“That is all I want to know, Mr. O’Connor. I will take this boy, Corny, and try him, with your consent.”
“Have you spoken with him?”
“Yes; he thinks he shall like being on a farm.”
“Then, sir, you have only to give us good references, and the matter shall be arranged. We always insist upon them, as we feel under obligations to place our boys in good families, where they will be likely to receive good treatment.”
“That is quite fair, sir. I can satisfy you on that point.”
The matter was soon arranged, and Corny Donovan’s suspense was at an end. He had found a home. His{79} new guardian was Mr. Darius Fogg, who owned and cultivated a large farm in the adjoining township of Claremont.