"No; I didn't ask. It was nothing to me."

"I should say it was not. So the kid told you there were no children,
did he? Well, you heard what Natalie said just now--which are you going
to believe?"

"The lady, of course," smilingly. "Surely this is no matter to
quarrel over."

"No, Captain West," she broke in, leaning forward in the seat, and
speaking again in the peculiar strained voice. "The boy was merely
mistaken. He had not seen the children because they were kept closely in
the house. They were turned out of their former home, and have absolutely
nothing; no furniture even; only straw to sleep on. It was most pitiful."

"Do not think of it any longer, Natalie," Coolidge insisted rather
gruffly. "They are all right now. I shall telephone for a doctor as soon
as we get back, and attend to the rent the first thing tomorrow."

"I know, Uncle, but I cannot forget so easily. Do you know anything about
poverty, Captain West?"

"Nothing very direct. Of course, in a way I have occasionally come in
contact with suffering of that nature. I have been hungry enough in
the army, but usually I have experienced little need. I regret," he
added apologetically, "that what I said was taken as criticism. I had
no such meaning."

"Criticism!" Coolidge turned the car around as he spoke. "Be as free with
that as you please; what I object to is your intruding at every