There even came days when he
did not go in at all.

And the consequence of that was that he saw more and more of Good, with
the result that he fell under the stranger's spell even more completely
than his sister had.

In that fact, curiously enough, Judith found something to reconcile her
with the lad's failure to consummate the task she had set for him. He
might spend his time with worse men, she told herself, than with Brent
Good. But she saw to it that the latter's hours were not wholly spent
with Roger.

As the stranger grew in strength, she procured him a pair of crutches,
and with their aid, and that of the motor-car, they were able to take
little jaunts off into the surrounding country-side. On these trips it
almost brought the tears to her eyes to perceive the exquisite pleasure
the sight and the smell of growing things seemed to give him.

"I've never known anyone who enjoyed the country as much as you do," she
said one day, after he had waxed particularly enthusiastic over a view
from one of the near-by hills.

"I've never seen anything but city," he answered. Then he added very
simply: "I was pretty nearly a man before I saw my first cow." His brow
clouded reminiscently, and although she ached to draw him out on his
past, his evident unwillingness to speak of it further made her
hesitate.

Only once did he make any other reference to his childhood. She had been
saying how difficult it was to make people spell her name correctly.

"You don't have any difficulty there," she added.

"Not much," he admitted. "Queer name, isn't it," he said after a pause.
"Queer the way I got it, too. Like to hear about that?"

She smiled at the innocence of the query, but forced herself merely to
nod her head.

He smiled, and a curious expression of tenderness came into his eyes.

"You see, I was born without a name. That is, I never had any
parents--or never knew who they were, which amounts to the same thing. I
was just one of those nameless little scraps of a city's flotsam that
get found on people's doorsteps every now and then. That is, I think I
was. I guess I was about five when I began to be conscious of self. As
far back as I can remember, I was selling chewing gum and getting food
by begging from restaurants at night and sleeping in doorways and
packing-boxes. Then I sold newspapers, and got prosperous, and when I
was about ten--I guess it was ten--you see, I don't really know even how
old I am--I got int