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Mrs. Bennett hugged her closer and patted her cheek softly, but let the passion of tears spend itself a little before trying the comfort of words. Then she questioned of the child’s parents, her past life, and the events just preceding the catastrophe in San Francisco, that she herself might better understand how to shield and make happy the little waif that a terrible, heaving earth had cast into her home, her arms., To-day his mother’s words had left a pang. He would soon be a man and have to “think for himself.” Yes, and work, too. “Gee whiz! It’ll be tough not to play any more,” he exclaimed under his breath as he bowled along the tree-lined road that led to the Prettyman farm., He was soon at the “lodge of ample size” made the week before, not of “strong logs” but of old fence-rails and willow twigs. He wondered if the girls would be able to imagine it a “lodge,” or if May Nell and Jean, who were to come a little later, could fix it according to the poem..