As Ernst sobbingly told his story the other children cried in doleful chorus, and Dennis’s tears fell fast too, as he realized how his humble friend had perished. He remembered her kindness to his mother and little sisters, and his heart acknowledged the claim of these poor little orphans. Prudence whispered, “You cannot afford to burden yourself with all these children,” and pride added, “What a figure you will make in presenting yourself before the Baroness Ludolph with all these children at your heels!” But he put such thoughts resolutely aside, and spoke like a brother; and when one of the children sobbed, “We so hungry!” out came the Baroness Ludolph’s fruit and cake, and nothing remained for Christine but the sardines and peaches, since these could not well be opened in the street. The little Bruders having devoured what seemed to them the ambrosia of the gods, he took the youngest in his arms, Ernst following with the others; and so they slowly made their way to the church where Christine was now anxiously waiting, with many surmises and forebodings at Dennis’s delay.
At last, in the dusk, the little group appeared at the church-door, and she exclaimed, “What has kept you so, Mr. Fleet?”
He determined to put the best face on the situation, and indulge in no heroics, so he said, “You could not expect such a body of infantry as this to march rapidly.”
“What!” she exclaimed, “have you brought all the lost children in the city back with you?”
“No, only those that fell properly to my care;” and in a few words he told their story.
“And do you, without a cent in the world, mean to assume the burden of these four children?” she asked, in accents of surprise.
He could not see her face, but his heart sank within him, for he thought that to her it would seem quixotic and become another barrier between them; but he answered, firmly: “Yes, till God, who has imposed the burden, removes it, and enables me to place them among friends in a good home. Mrs. Bruder, before she died, wrote to her family in Germany, telling her whole story. Relatives may take the children; if not, some way will be provided.”
“Mr. Fleet, I wonder at you,” was her answer. “Give me that child, and you bring the others.”
He wondered at her as he saw her take the child and imprint a kiss on the sleepy, dirty face; and Ernst, who had been eying her askance, crept timidly nearer when he saw the kiss, and whispered, “Perhaps her old outside heart has been burned away.”
They followed to a lobby of the lecture-room, and here she procured a damp towel and proceeded to remove the tear and dust stains from the round and wondering faces of the children. Having restored them to something of their original color, she took them away to supper, saying to Dennis, with a decided nod, “You stay here till I come for you.”
Something in her manner reminded him of the same little autocrat who had ordered him about when they arranged the store together. She soon returned with a basin of water and a towel, saying: “See what a luxury you secure by obeying orders. Now give an account of yourself, as every lady’s knight should on his return. How have you spent the day?”
He could not forbear laughing as he said: “My employment has been almost ludicrously incongruous with the title by which you honor me. I have been shovelling brick and mortar with other laborers.”
“All day?”
“All day.”
Her glance became so tender and wistful that he forgot to wash his hands in looking at her, and felt for the moment as if he could shovel rubbish forever, if such could be his reward.
Seemingly by an effort, she regained her brusque manner, which he did not know was but the mask she was trying to wear, and said, quickly: “What is the matter? Why don’t you wash your face?”
“You told me to give an account of myself,” he retorted, at the same time showing rising color in his dust-begrimed face.
“Well, one of your ability can do two things at once. What have you got in that bundle?”
“You may have forgotten, but I promised to bring you home something that you chose to regard as charity.”
“If I was so ungracious, you ought to have rewarded me by bringing me a broken brick. Will you let me see what you brought?” but without waiting for permission she pounced upon the bundle and dragged out the peaches and sardines.
He, having washed and partially wiped his face, was now able to display more of his embarrassment, and added, apologetically: “That is not all I had. I also bought some cake and fruit, and then my money gave out.”
“And do you mean to say that you have no money left?”
“Not a penny,” he answered, desperately.
“But where are the cake and fruit?”
“Well,” he said, laughingly, “I found the little Bruders famishing on the sidewalk, and they got the best part of your supper.”
“What an escape I have had!” she exclaimed. “Do you think I should have survived the night if I had eaten those strangely assorted dainties, as in honor bound I would have done, since you brought them?” Then with a face of comical severity she turned upon him and said: “Mr. Fleet, you need someone to take care of you. What kind of economy
