“Good enough!” said Tom.
“How was mother—was everything all right at home when you left?” asked his sister.
“Oh, fine and dandy. But what do you think, Winnie, that Children’s Aid child has come. Mother says she’s glad it happened while we were out of the way, so she’d have a better opportunity to get him running smoothly without our help.”
“Him!” said Winona. “Do you mean they sent a boy, not a girl?”
Tom laughed. “They certainly did—a darky about twelve, as black as your hat, and a regular Topsy.”
“Good gracious!” said Winona, laughing.
Mrs. Merriam had written to the Children’s Aid Society a little while before for a girl of about fourteen—black preferred—who could help with the dishes out of school hours. She had heard nothing about it, and the family had completely forgotten it till now.
“When did he get there?” asked Winona.
“The day before I came away,” said Tom. “It was wash-day, and that colored washerwoman mother has opened the door. First we knew she came back and said: ‘There’s a white woman and a young colored gemman to see Mrs. Merriam.’ So mother went out, and came back in a minute with the agent, an awfully nice sort of a girl, and the smallest, solemnest, black boy you ever saw. Mother didn’t want him at first, but the agent-girl swore he had all the virtues, and needed a good home and moral training. Then she walked off and left him sitting on a chair, staring straight ahead. I tell you, it got sort of embarrassing after awhile. So I asked him his name.”
“What is it?” asked Winona.