In the entire establishment the furnishings were scant and poor, and in
every way things were vastly different from what we find them in the
poorhouse of our modern times. In the main office, where Mr. Engler
transacted his business affairs and entertained strangers, there was simply
a rude desk, a homemade couch without springs or mattress, and a few
rush-bottomed chairs. For years the walls had been growing darker because
of the constant use of tobacco by those who frequented the place.

Had it not been that the steward and the matron of this home for the poor
were capable persons and able to get considerable help out of the inmates,
they could not have managed to keep up the place at all. To conceal the
fact that the poorhouse was a miserable place to stay would have been an
impossibility.

To the selfish mother it mattered not that the office within which she was
standing was an index to the entire building. Regardless of consequences,
she cared only to be freed from her burdens and responsibilities as a
mother. So the answer that Mr. Engler gave her only stirred within her evil
heart the anger and cruelty already there, and with a fiendish glare of
derision toward the one who was endeavoring to do his duty, she took a step
toward the hard couch and threw, rather than laid, the bundle she held in
her arms upon it. An instant later she disappeared through the open
doorway. When Mr. Engler recovered from his surprize and went to look for
her, he saw her running up the road as fast as her feet would carry her.

Realizing in part the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Engler went at once
to notify his wife, and, leaving her in charge of the little one, he, with
others, set out to find the runaway mother. The task proved to be
difficult. Owing to the fact that the woman was a stranger in the community