Mr. Henderson smiled gently. “Yes, I do know, Dr. Benson. I was a slum child, myself. I think that’s why I started this home. I can never forget the horrors I saw as a child, and I’d give anything in the world to protect other children from them.”
Eileen shook her head. “Slum life can turn out some pretty wonderful people,” she said softly. “People determined to help others in the same fix.”
Mr. Henderson smiled at her. “I guess that’s about the size of it.” He stood up and went over to a filing cabinet. “I have here all the data about Mercyville. Our medical and health records and our financial status. The former is very good. The latter is never good, of course. But we manage to make ends meet.” He handed Eileen and Dr. Benson copies of the report. “You can look it over and take a copy back to Dr. Barsch. He’ll probably want it for his records. As you see, we are an accredited grammar and high school. And here,” he pointed to a page, “is a list of our alumni. That’s our gold star page, so to speak. Some of our boys are brilliant and have fine careers. Others are not so ... so brainy, of course. But they also become useful, productive citizens.”
Just then the boys returned. George Michaels, the president-elect, was with them. He was a tall, slim Negro boy. He and Tommy were so deeply involved in a discussion about baseball that they were almost oblivious to everyone else.
“George,” said Mr. Henderson, “I want you to meet Dr. Benson and Miss Gordon from the Gallup Clinic in Elmhurst.”
George looked up, startled. Eileen and Dr. Benson both laughed as the new president came back down to earth.
“Sorry, sir,” George said, shaking Dr. Benson’s hand. “Tom and I were so deep in the technicalities of the game, I forgot where I was.”
Dr. Benson grinned. “I’m crazy about the game, myself. I can understand your being so absorbed.”
Mr. Henderson looked at George fondly. “George is our star athlete. He plays football, baseball and basketball.”
“A triple threat man, eh?” Dr. Benson asked.