neighbors reverently fell apart and made way for him. He leaned upon the

open coffin and let his tears course silently. Then he put out his small

hand and smoothed the hair and stroked the dead face lovingly. After a

bit he brought his other hand up from behind him and laid three or four

fresh wild flowers upon the breast, bent over and kissed the unresponsive

lips time and time again, and then turned away and went out of the house

without looking at any of the company. The old lady said to Hawkins:

"She always loved that kind o' flowers. He fetched 'em for her every

morning, and she always kissed him. They was from away north somers--

she

kep' school when she fust come. Goodness knows what's to become o' that

po' boy. No father, no mother, no kin folks of no kind. Nobody to go

to, nobody that k'yers for him--and all of us is so put to it for to get

along and families so large."

Hawkins understood. All, eyes were turned inquiringly upon him. He

said:

Friends, I am not very well provided for, myself, but still I would not

turn my back on a homeless orphan. If he will go with me I will give him

a home, and loving regard--I will do for him as I would have another do

for a child of my own in misfortune."

One after another the people stepped forward and wrung the stranger's

hand with cordial good will, and their eyes looked all that their hands

The Gilded Age