“Mrs. McGrailey began to cry so horribly at this, that mister said in a hurry, ‘Well, then, in the name of common sense, suggest a way out. Your boy is not going to run loose about this place. That’s the very way to tear him from you.’
“‘Mr. Bonstone,’ said McGrailey, ‘you own two hundred acres of wild land out Torbellon way.’
“Yes, mister said he did.
“‘Start a cottage colony, sir. Give me the post of head gardener. I’ll build a house with my savings, and I’ll give you the names of a score of persons like myself who have children that are not like other children. They’ll put some money in—but they won’t send their boys and girls to a big institution.’
“‘I think you’re wrong,’ said mister shaking his head. ‘Your boy would be better away from you—and you’d have to hire experts to train him and others like him.’
“‘Hire them,’ said McGrailey commandingly.
“‘Look here,’ said my boss, ‘you fellows rate my bank account too high. I’m sailing close to the wind just now.’
“‘Trust you to raise money,’ said the man almost contemptuously. ‘Haven’t you and Rudolph Granton got the name for good sense in business, and wisdom in philanthropy—ask your fellow rich men. They’d give you funds, when they’d turn a deaf ear to the likes of me.’
“My boss got up. ‘Then I’m to start a private institution for Willie?’
“‘That’s it, sir,’ said McGrailey grimly. ‘You’ll do that, and more too for a neighbour.’