“If you see anything of my Jack about your place, just send him home,
won’t you?”
Jack was there, dirty, and meanly dressed, and in striking contrast
with John Wheaton’s three adopted children, who, with the only mother
they knew, gave the happy man a joyful welcome.
“I have turned over a new leaf,” said the journeyman when he came to
work the next morning.
“Indeed! I am glad to hear it,” returned Mr. Wheaton.
“Ellen and I talked it over last night. I am done helping saloon
keepers build handsome houses. I’m glad you put it to me in that way. I
never looked at it so before. But it’s just the hard truth. What fools
we are!”
“Going to take a baby?” questioned Mr. Wheaton, smiling.
“Well, we haven’t just settled that; but Ellen heard yesterday of a
poor little thing that would have to go to the county house unless some
one agrees to take it, and I shouldn’t wonder now if she opened her
heart,--for she’s a motherly body.”
“Where is it?” asked Mr. Wheaton.
“Down at the Woodbury mills.”
“Look here, Frank. Take my advice, and put this baby between you and
McBride’s saloon.”