Mrs. MacIntyre hesitated.  “I do not believe their mother would like it,” she answered.  “Sydney is careful enough about their associates, but Elise is doubly particular.  You can imagine how much badness this child must know when you remember how he has been reared.  He told me that his name is Jones Carter, and that he cannot remember ever having a father or a mother.  I questioned him very closely this morning.  He comes from the worst of the Chicago slums.  He slept in the cellar of one of its poorest tenement houses, and lived in the gutters.  He has a brother only a little older, who is a bootblack.  On days when shines were plentiful they had something to eat, otherwise they starved or begged.”

“Poor little lamb,” murmured Miss Allison.

“It was by the brother’s advice he came away with that tramp,” continued Mrs. MacIntyre.  “He had gotten possession of that trained bear in some way, and probably took a fancy to Jones because he could whistle and dance all sorts of jigs.  He probably thought it would be a good thing to have a child with him to work on peoples’ sympathies.  They walked all the way from Chicago to Lloydsborough, Jones told me, excepting three days’ journey they made in a wagon.  They have been two months on the road, and showed the bear in the country places they passed through.  They avoided the large towns.”

“Think what a Christmas he must have had!” exclaimed Miss Allison.

“Christmas!  I doubt if he ever heard the word.  His speech is something shocking; nothing but the slang of the streets, and so ungrammatical that I could scarcely understand him at times.  No, I am very sure that neither Sydney nor Elise would want the boys to be with him.”

“But he is so little, mother, and so sick and pitiful looking,” pleaded Miss Allison.  “Surely he cannot know so very much badness or hurt the boys if they go down to cheer him up for a little while.”

Notwithstanding Mrs. Maclntyre’s fears, she consented to the boys visiting Jonesy that afternoon.  She could not resist the professor’s second appeal or the boys’ own urging.

They took the bear with them, which Jonesy welcomed like a lost friend.  They spent an interesting hour among the professor’s collections, listening to his explanations in his funny broken English.  Then they explored his cottage, much amused by his queer housekeeping, cracked nuts on the hearth, and roasted apples on a string in front of the fire.

Jonesy did not seem to be cheered up by the visit as much as the professor had expected.  Presently the old man left the room and Keith sat down on the side of the bed.

“What makes you so still, Jonesy?” he asked.  “You haven’t said a word for the last half hour.”

“I was thinking about Barney,” he answered, keeping his face turned away.  “Barney is my brother, you know.”

“Yes, so grandmother said,” answered Keith.  “How big is he?”