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."