"Here he is, Mother," said Russ, entering the hall with the colored boy.

The other children had come downstairs now and all understood just what
Margy and Mun Bun had tried to do for the stranger. Mother Bunker smiled
kindly upon the wretched lad, even if Aunt Jo did look on a little
doubtfully from the background.

"We understand all about it, boy," Mother Bunker said. "The little folks
only wanted to help you; and so do we. Do you live in Boston?"

"Me, Ma'am? No, Ma'am! I lives a long way souf of dis place. Dat I do!"

"And have you no friends here?"

"Friends? Whar'd I get friends?" he demanded, complainingly. "Dey ain't
no friends for boys like me up Norf yere."

"Oh! What a story!" exclaimed Aunt Jo. "I know people must be just as
kind in Boston as they are in the South."

"Mebbe dey is, lady," said the colored boy, looking somewhat frightened
because of Aunt Jo's vigorous speech. "Mebbe dey is; but dey hides it
better yere. If yo' beg a mess of vittles in dis town dey puts yo' in
jail. Down Souf dey axes you is you hongry? Ya-as'm!"

At that Aunt Jo began to bustle about to the great delight of the
children. She called down to Parker, the cook, and asked her to put out
a nice meal on the end of the kitchen table and to make coffee. And then
she said she would go up to the attic where, in a press in which she
kept garments belonging to a church society, there were some warm
clothes that might fit the colored boy.

Rose and Vi went with Aunt Jo to help, or to look on; but Margy and the
three boys stayed with their mother to hear more that the visitor might
say.

"My name's Sam," he replied to Mother Bunker's question. "Dat is, it's
the name I goes by, for my hones'-to-goodness name is right silly. But I
had an Uncle Sam, and I considers I has got a right to be named after
him. So I is."

"Does your Uncle Sam wear a tall hat and red-and-white striped pants
with straps under the bootsoles and stars on his vest?" asked Laddie,
with great interest and eagerness.

"I dunno, little fellow," said Sam. "I ain't never seen my Uncle Sam,
but I heard my mammy talk about him."

Russ and his mother were much amused at Laddie's question. Russ said:

"That Uncle Sam you are talking about, Laddie, is a white man. He
couldn't be this Sam's uncle."

"Why not?" demanded Laddie, with quite as much curiosity as his twin
sister might have shown.

"Very true, why not?" repeated Mrs. Bunker, with some gravity. "You