"To pursue directly the cause of my intrusion here," he went on, at
length, "this little--well, for present purposes, we will call him the
_Phenomenon_. I confess it is a name to which he is not totally unused.
This little phenomenon, whom you see before you, is the youngest but one
in a flock of thirteen. Some of that beautiful band--" here Mr. Cradlebow
raised a very shaky hand for an instant to his eyes, and although a
fitting occasion for sentiment, I was compelled to think of what Grandpa
Keeler had said about Godfrey Cradlebow's "sprees"--"some of that
beautiful band rest in the graveyard, yonder. Some of them already
know what it is themselves to be parents. Some of them still linger in
the poor old home nest. I see you have here, my Alvin, and my Wallace,
and my youngest, the infant Sophronia. Well, you find them good children,
I dare say. Ah! they have an estimable mother." Again, he lifted his hand
to his eyes. "Mischievous enough, you find them, probably, but
amenable--there it is, amenable--but this lad"--Mr. Cradlebow paused
again, shaking his head with a meaning to which he gravely declined
further expression.
"What is your name?" I inquired of the little boy, hopefully.
Pages:
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99