table caught their curious eyes, and they gazed in awe at the long
shelves of books against the wall. Opposite the entrance where they
stood they saw a strongly made workbench. And beneath this bench and
piled in that corner of the room were baskets--dozens of them--of
several shapes and sizes; while brackets and shelves above were filled
with the materials of which the baskets were woven. There was very
little furniture. The floors were bare, the windows without hangings.
It was all so different from anything that these children of the Flats
had ever seen that they felt their adventure assuming proportions.

For what seemed a long time, the boy and the girl stood there,
hesitating, on the threshold, expecting something--anything--to happen.
Then the lad ventured a bold step or two into the room. His sister
followed timidly.

They were facing hungrily toward an open door that led, evidently, to
the kitchen, when a deep voice from somewhere behind them said, "How do
you do?"

Startled nearly out of their small wits, the adventurers whirled to
escape, but the voice halted them with, "Don't go. You came to see me,
didn't you?"

The voice, though so deep and strong, was unmistakably kind and
gentle--quite the gentlest voice, in fact, that these children had ever
heard.

Hesitatingly, they went again into the room, and now, turning their
backs upon the culinary end of the apartment, they saw, through the
doorway opening on to the balcony porch, a man seated in a wheel chair.