"No; eat it yourself."

"Would he have a bit if I asked him!" said the boy, torturing himself in his generous impulse.

"No, no. You eat it, my boy."

Once more the cake was within an inch of the bright sparkling teeth, but the bite was not taken. Instead of eating, the boy held out the cake to his hostess.

"Cut it in half, please," he said; "fair halves."

"What for?"

"I'm going to eat one bit; t'other's for Billy Jingle. He's had measles, and been very bad, and he's such a good chap."

"You shall have a piece to send to your schoolfellow," said Helen, with her eyes a little moist now, for the boy's generous spirit was gaining upon her, and she looked at him with more interest than she had displayed a few minutes before.

The boy took a tremendous bite, and began to munch as he sat upon a velvet-covered ha.s.sock; but he jumped up directly, and held out the bitten cake again, to say, with his mouth full--

"Oh, do have a bit. It's lovely."

Helen smiled, and laid her hand upon the boy's shoulder, as she shook her head, when to her surprise he caught the soft white hand in his left, gazed hard at it, and then pressed it against his cheek, making a soft purring noise, no bad imitation of a cat.

Then he sat eating and holding the hand which was not taken away, till, as the little stranger munched on in the full enjoyment of the wondrous novelty, the doctor said sharply, "Helen, come here."

The boy stared, but went on eating, and the doctor's daughter crossed the room to where her father sat.

CHAPTER SIX.

A QUICKSILVER GLOBULE.

"Well, papa?" she said, looking into his face in a half-amused way.

"Well, Helen," said the doctor, taking her hand and drawing her to him; "about this boy?"

"Yes, dear. You have made up your mind to adopt and bring one up," she said, in a low tone which the lad could not hear.

"Yes," said the doctor, taking his tone from her, "to turn the raw material into the polished cultured article."

"But of course you will take this one back, and select another!"

"And pray why!" said the doctor sharply.

"I thought--I thought--" faltered Helen.

"Oh, nonsense! Better for proving my theory."

"Yes, papa, but--"

"A little wild and rough, that's all; boy-like; high-spirited; right stuff in him."

"No doubt, papa; but he is so very rough."

"Then we'll use plenty of sand-paper and make him smooth. Moral sand-paper. Capital boy, my dear. Had a deal of trouble in getting him--by George! the young wolf! He has finished that cake."

"Then you really mean to keep him, papa?" said Helen, glancing at the boy, where he sat diligently picking up a few crumbs and a currant which he had dropped.

"Mean to keep him? Now, my dear Helen, when did you ever know me undertake anything, and not carry it out!"

"Never, papa."

"Then I am not going to begin now. There is the boy."

"Yes, papa," said Helen rather sadly; "there is the boy."

"I mean to make him a gentleman, and I must ask you to help me with the poor orphan--"

"He is an orphan, then!" said Helen quickly.

"Yes. Son of some miserable tramp who died in the casual ward."

"How dreadful!" said Helen, glancing once more at the boy, who caught her eye, and smiled in a way which made his face light up, and illumined the sallow cheeks and dull white pinched look.

"Dreadful? Couldn't be better for my theory, my dear."

"Very well, papa," said Helen quietly; "I will help you all I can."

"I knew you would, my dear," said the doctor warmly; "and I prophesy that you will be proud of your work, and so shall I. Now, then, to begin," he added loudly.

"All in--all in--all in!" shouted the boy, jumping up like a gra.s.shopper, and preparing to go through some fresh gymnastic feat.

"Ah! ah! Sit down, sir. How dare you!" shouted the doctor; and the boy dropped into his seat again, and sat like a mouse.

"There!" said the doctor softly; "there's obedience. Result of drilling. Now, then, what's the first thing? He must have some clothes."

"Oh yes; at once," said Helen.

"And, look here, my dear," said the doctor testily; "I never use anything of the kind myself, but you girls rub some stuff--pomade or cream--on your hair to make it grow, do you not?"

"Well, yes, papa."

"Then, for goodness' sake, let a double quant.i.ty be rubbed at once upon that poor boy's head. Really it is cut so short that he is hardly fit to be seen without a cap on."

"I'm afraid you will have to wait some time," said Helen, with a smile.

"Humph! yes, I suppose so," said the doctor gruffly. "That barber ought to be flogged. Couldn't put the boy in a wig, of course."

"O papa! no."