“And to think that that terrible man was harboured on my place!” exclaimed Mrs. MacIntyre when she heard of it.  “And you boys were down there in the cabin with him for hours!  Sat beside him and talked with him!  What will your mother say?  I feel as if you had been exposed to the smallpox, and I cannot be too thankful now that the boy who was with him was not brought here.  He isn’t a fit companion for you.  Not that the poor little unfortunate is to blame.  He cannot help being a child of the slums, and he must be put in an orphan asylum or a reform school at once.  It is probably the only thing that can save him from growing up to be a criminal like the man who brought him here.  I shall see what can be done about it, as soon as possible.”

“A child of the slums!” Malcolm and Keith repeated the expression afterward, with only a vague idea of its meaning.  It seemed to set poor Jonesy apart from themselves as something unclean,—­something that their happy, well-filled lives must not be allowed to touch.

Maybe if Jonesy had been an attractive child, with a sensitive mouth, and big, appealing eyes, he might have found his way more easily into people’s hearts.  But he was a lean, snub-nosed little fellow, with a freckled face and neglected hair.  No one would ever find his cheek a tempting one to kiss, and no one would be moved, by any feeling save pity, to stoop and put affectionate arms around Jonesy.  He was only a common little street gamin, as unlovely as he was unloved.

“What a blessing that there are such places as orphan asylums for children of that class,” said Mrs. Maclntyre, after one of her visits to him.  “I must make arrangements for him to be put into one as soon as he is able to be moved.”

“I think he will be very loath to leave the old professor,” answered Miss Allison.  “He has been so good to the child, amusing him by the hour with his microscopes and collections of insects, telling him those delightful old German folk-lore tales, and putting him to sleep every night to the music of his violin.  What a child-lover he is, and what a delightful old man in every way!  I am glad we have discovered him.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Maclntyre; “and when this little tramp is sent away, I want the children to go there often.  I asked him if he could not teach them this spring, at least make a beginning with them in natural history, and he appeared much pleased.  He is as poor as a church mouse, and would be very glad of the money.”

“That reminds me,” said Miss Allison, “he asked me if the boys could not come down to see Jonesy this afternoon, and bring the bear.  He thought it would give the little fellow so much pleasure, and might help him to forget his suffering.”