“My wife has hardly answered you fully,” he said. “I am under the impression that she desires to adopt a certain portion of this alley; at least I have heard of little else since last Sabbath afternoon. She is in search of some stray sheep who have been put under her care.”
“Ah,” the doctor said, turning quickly to her, “a Sabbath-school teacher? Is this young man one of your scholars?”
“No,” she explained; “but she had heard of him while inquiring where one of her boys lived, and she had called to see if she could help in any way. Dirk Colson was the boy who, they told her, lived near this place.”
The eyes of the trim sister brightened.
“He lives on the next square,” she said. “Oh, ma'am, are you his teacher, and do you care for him? I'm so glad.”
“He is a favorite of yours, is he?” the doctor asked, looking from one speaking face to another, and seeming immensely interested in the matter.
“No, indeed!” the girl said, quickly. “He's horrid! But I'm sorry for his sister; and she wants Dirk to get on, and he never does get on; but I thought maybe such a kind of a teacher could help him.”
There was such intense and genuine admiration in the girl's voice for the vision of loveliness before her that Dr. Everett could not help smiling.
“It doesn't seem unlikely,” said he, with significance; and added: “Who is this Dirk Colson, who seems to be an object of interest?”
“He is one of the worst boys in the alley, sir; sometimes I think he is the very worst, because he is cross as well as hateful; but Mark is always kind of sorry for him, and says he has such a bad father he can't help it. And Mart—that's his sister—she is a friend of mine, and she feels bad about Dirk, but she can't do nothing; he ain't a bit like Mark there.”