'em now—they're like sheep. Leave it to me to keep the soft pedal on."
With a nod, Madison turned away, the tense expression on his face assumed again—and presently he was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, and patting the boy's head in a clumsy, overwrought way.
"I—I don't dar'st to go," said Mrs. Holmes, clutching wildly at the boy, still sobbing, still beyond control of herself.
"But Mrs. Thornton is going," said Madison gently, "and I know your gratitude is no less than hers—it couldn't be less with this little lad restored to you. I am sure you want to show it—don't you?"
"I think we'd orter go, ma," said Mr. Holmes uneasily
The boy put his hand in Madison's.
"I want to go, mister," he choked. "Take me, mister, won't you?"
"Yes, I think we'd orter go," repeated Mr. Holmes. "Come along, ma," he said, taking his wife's arm.
It was a strange group—the Thorntons, rich, refined, to whom luxury was necessity; the Holmes, poor, uncultured, coarsely dressed; and Madison, who walked with set face, head lowered a little, his pace slowing perceptibly, humbly it seemed, the nearer he came to the cottage door. Neither Thornton, nor Holmes, nor Holmes' wife spoke. Mrs. Thornton's arm was flung around the boy's shoulder, and he kept looking up into her tearful
