"'Hello, sonny,' he says, weak. 'Got a good home?'
"'He's in a good home, with good people, Mr. Bartlett,' Insley told him.
"'For keeps?' Chris's father asks, his eyes burning at Insley's over the boy's head.
"'We shall look after him somehow, among us,' Robin says. 'Don't worry about him, Mr. Bartlett. He's all right.'
"The father's look turned toward her and it sort of lingered there a minute. And then it lit up a little—he didn't smile or change expression, but his look lit up some.
"'You're the kind of a one I meant,' he says. 'I wanted he should have a good home. I—I done pretty good for you, didn't I, Chris?' he says.
"Chris leaned way over and pulled at his sleeve. 'You—you—you come in our house, too,' he says.
"'No, sonny, no,' says the man. 'I guess mebbe I'm—goin' somewheres else. But I done well by you, didn't I? Your ma and I always meant you should hev a good home. I'm glad—if you've got it. It's nicer than bein' with me—ain't it? Ain't it?'
"Chris, on Robin's knee, was leaning forward on the bed, his hand patting and pulling at his father's hand.