“‘They’re not at their best,’ I shouted, ‘but here they are.’

“‘Yes, I knew they were there,’ said Mrs. Bill.  ’This is the music of which you were speaking the other day.  Take them right around to the old house, if you please.  I’m sorry, but I must ask you to excuse me this morning.’

“I succeeded in quellin’ the tumult, and introduced the matron, who received a nod an’ a look that made a dent in her, an’ away we went around the great house, a melancholy, shuffling troop, now silent as the grave.  It looked dark for my little battalion with which I had been hoping to conquer this world within the villa gates.  They were of the great army of the friendless.

“I asked Mrs. Hammond, the matron, to see that they did as little damage as possible, and left them surrounded by every comfort.

“They had a telephone and unlimited credit at the stores, an’ Mrs. Hammond was a motherly soul of much experience with children, an’ I knew that I could trust her.

“I was to dine with the Warburtons later in the week, an’ before I entered the big house that evening I went around to the lodge.  The children were all well an’ asleep in their beds, an’ the matron apparently happy an’ contented.  She said that Mrs. Bill had met them in the grounds that day, an’ she told how the little three-year-old boy had exerted his charms upon my lady Warburton, who had spent half an hour leading him through the gardens.

[Illustration:  The boy had exerted his charms upon my lady Warburton.]

“How beautiful he was lying asleep in his bed that evening!—­his face like the old dreams of Eros, with silken, yellow, curly locks on his brow, an’ long dark lashes, soft as the silk of the growing corn, an’ a red mouth, so wonderfully curved, so appealing in its silence.  Beneath it were teeth like carved ivory.  Those baby lips seemed to speak to me and to say:  ’O man that was born of a woman, and like me was helpless, give me your love or look not upon me!’

“But I could not help looking, an” as I looked he smiled in what dreams—­of things past or to come—­I wish it were in me to tell you.  Something touched me—­like a strong hand.  I went out under the trees in the darkness an’ stood still an’ wondered what had happened to me.  Great Scott!—­me!  Socrates Potter, lawyer, statesman, horse-trader!

“‘With that little captain I could take a city,’ I whispered, an’ I got up an’ brushed myself off, as it were, an’ walked around to the front door of the great house.

“Therein I was to witness an amusing comedy.  The butler wore a new sort of grin as he took my wraps at the door.  There were guests, mostly from New York an’ Greenwich.  We had taken our seats at the table when, to my surprise, Mrs. Bill, in a grand costume, with a tiara on her head, an’ a collar of diamonds on her neck, began to serve the caviar.

“‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said she, ’this is to convince Mr. Socrates Potter that I can do useful work.  I’m dieting, anyhow, and I can’t eat.’