“This poor child—what work can he do?”
“You’d be surprised; and his ear is excellent. We’re thinking of putting him to piano-tuning.”
“We are thinking?”
“Yes, Owen; these little boys live here with me in the new wing. I’m afraid they are not very comfortable there, but they don’t complain.”
“Seven little crippled boys, whom you look after!”
“Six—the seventh is my servant’s son; he is delicate, but he isn’t a cripple. We don’t call him her son here, she is nominally his aunt.”
“You look after these boys, and go up to London to earn their living?”
“I earn sufficient to run my little establishment.”
As they returned to the cottage, one of the boys thrust his spade into the ground.
“Please, miss, may we stay up a little longer this evening? It won’t be dark till nine or half-past, mis
