"Yes, I got him as a present for a boy."
"One of your boys, sir—that is, if those children over there belong to you."
Mr. Devering fell behind Dallas and made a forbidding gesture with his hand toward the children. I guessed that he was keeping them back so that he might for some reason or other have this lad to himself for awhile.
"Yes," he said, catching up to Dallas, "those are my children."
"How many, sir?"
"Six."
"And they have a mother?"
"Oh! yes."
The boy's head was drooping thoughtfully. "There is a big brick house next door to us in the city," he said. "Every night I look across the lane and see the children going to bed. The maid undresses them and then the mother comes in and takes them in her arms and rocks and sings to them. So whenever I think of my mother there is a lovely sound of singing in my ears. Was she a fine singer, sir?"