“I think the mother—­from what I can gather—­wanted to keep the boy, but the father is a very proud man, and this lad aggravated him some way just to see him, and the mother yielded to his wishes, as a true wife should, and for the sake of peace has withdrawn her objections.”

“A poor soft fool, that’s all she is, to let a domineering old reprobate send her poor lad away, just because he did not like to see him around, and him his own child!  And even you, Mr. Tilton, who have been out here living with civilized people for three years, have enough of the old country way in you yet to say that a true wife should consent to this to please the old tyrant!  Faith, I don’t blame the Suffragettes for smashing windows, and if I wasn’t so busy feeding hungry men, I believe I would go over and give them a hand, only I would be more careful what I was smashing and would not waste my time on innocent windows!”

“But you will take him, won’t you, Mrs. Corbett?  I will feel quite easy about him if you will!”

“I suppose I’ll have to.  I can’t refuse when his own have deserted him!  I would be a poor member of the Army if I did not remember Our Lord’s promise to the poor children when their fathers and mothers forsake them, and I will try to carry it out as well as I can.”

Stanley was soon established in the big white-washed room in Mrs. Corbett’s boarding-house.  He brought with him everything that any boy could ever want, and his room, which he kept spotlessly clean, with its beautiful rug, pictures, and books, was the admiration of the neighborhood.

Stanley understood the situation and spoke of it quite frankly.

“My father thought it better for me to come away for a while, to see if it would not toughen me up a bit.  He has been rather disappointed in me, I think.  You see, I had an accident when I was a little fellow and since then I have not been—­quite right.”

“Just think of that,” Mrs. Corbett said afterwards in telling it to a sympathetic group of “Stoppers.”  “It wouldn’t be half so bad if the poor boy didn’t know that he is queer.  I tried to reason it out of him, but he said that he had heard the housekeeper and the parlor-maid at home talking of it, and they said he was a bit looney.  It wouldn’t be half so bad for him if he was not so near to being all right!  If ever I go wrong in the head I hope I’ll be so crazy that I won’t know that I’m crazy.  Craziness is like everything else—­it’s all right if you have enough of it!”

“Stanley is not what any one would call crazy,” said one of the Stoppers; “the only thing I can see wrong with him is that you always know what he is going to say, and he is too polite, and every one can fool him!  He certainly is a good worker, and there’s another place he shows that he is queer, for he doesn’t need to work and still he does it!  He likes it, and thanked me to-day for letting him clean my team; and as a special favor I’m going to let him hitch them up when I am ready to go!”