“Never mind that,” said Louis.  “We will go to the mill for him and his little friend, too, if he can go.”

“Oh! yes, sir; he can, and I am so glad, for the father is a miserably discouraged man.  He drinks to drown trouble, and it seems to me he will drown them all after a little.  A pleasant man, too.  His wife says poor health first caused him to use liquor.”

We then called on the woman in question and obtained her tearful consent, for while the promise of a home for her boy was a bright gleam, she said: 

“He is the oldest.  Oh!  I shall miss him when we are sick.”

“He shall come to you any time,” said Louis, “and you shall visit him.”

And in a few moments we were at the mill.  Entering the office, Louis was cordially greeted by one of the three gentlemen who had called on us.  He evidently anticipated his errand, for he said: 

“So, you are come for Willie Moore and Burton Brown?”

“Yes, sir,” Louis replied.  “Can I go to the room for them?”

“As you please, Mr. Desmonde, I can call them down.  Their room is not a very desirable place for a lady to visit.”

Louis looked at him as if to remind him of something, while I said: 

“My place is beside my husband.”

“Yes,” added Louis, “we work together.  Come, Emily,” and he led the way to the fourth floor, where, under the flat roof in a long, low room, were the little wool pickers.  I thought at first I could not breathe, the air was so close and sickening.  And here were twenty boys, not one of them more than twelve or thirteen years old, working through long hours.  The heat was stifling, and the fuzz from the wool made it worse.  They wore no stockings or shoes, nothing but a shirt and overalls, and these were drenched as with rain.

As we entered Louis whispered, “See the pictures,” and it was a bright, glad light that came suddenly into all their eyes at sight of their friend.  He spoke to them all, introducing me as we passed through the long line that lay between the two rows of boys.  When we came to Willie and Burton, Louis whispered to them: 

“Get ready to go with me.”

They went into the adjoining hall to put on the garments which they wore to and from the mill, and in less time than it takes me to write it, they stood ready for a start.  As we passed again between the lines of boys Louis dropped into every palm a silver piece, saying, as he did so: 

“Hold on, boys, work with good courage, and we will see you all in a different place one of these days.”

“Thank you, sir;” and “yes, sir, we will,” fell upon our ears as we passed out.  Our two little proteges ran out in advance.  And as I looked back a moment, standing on the threshold of the large door, I said: 

“It is a beautiful picture, Louis.  You are a master artist.”

After again stopping in the office for a few words of conversation with Mr. Damon, Louis was ready, the boys clambered into our carriage, and we were on our way to their homes, first stopping to purchase for each of them a suit of clothes, a large straw hat, and a black cap.  The boys said nothing, but looked a world of wondering thanks.