ed about fifty years
of age. She greeted us gladly, though when Louis introduced me, I knew
she felt the meager surroundings and wished he had been alone, for her
face flushed and her manner was nervous. I spoke kindly and took the
chair she proffered, being very careful not to appear to notice the
scantily furnished room.

"Well," said Louis, "Mrs. Moore, are you ready to let your boy go with
me?"

"Oh, sir," she said, "only too willing; but I have been afraid you would
not come. It seemed so strange that you should make us such an offer--so
strange that you can afford to do it, and be willing, too, for
experience has taught us to expect nothing, especially from those who
have money. But Willie's clothes, sir, are sadly worn. I have patched
them beyond holding together, almost; but I could get no new ones."

"Never mind that," said Louis. "We will go to the mill for him and his
little friend, too, if he can go."

"Oh! yes, sir; he can, and I am so glad, for the father is a miserably
discouraged man. He drinks to drown trouble, and it seems to me he will
drown them all after a little. A pleasant man, too. His wife says poor
health first caused him to use liquor."

We then called on the woman in question and obtained her tearful
consent, for while the promise of a home for her boy was a bright gleam,
she said:

"He is the oldest. Oh! I shall miss him when we are sick."

"He shall come to you any time," said Louis, "and you shall visit him."

And in a few moments we were at the mill. Entering the office, Louis was
cordially greeted by one of the three gentlemen who had called on us. He
evidently anticipated his errand, for he said:

"So, you are come for Willie Moore and Burton Brown?"

"Yes, sir," Louis replied. "Can I go to the room for them?"

"As you please, Mr. Desmonde, I can call them down. Their room is not a
very desirable place for a lady to visit."

Louis looked at him as if to remind him of something, while I said:

"My place is beside my husband."

"Yes," added Louis, "we work together. Come, Emily," and he led the way
to the fourth floor, where, under the flat roof in a long, low room,
were the little wool pickers. I thought at first I could not breathe,
the air was so close and sickening. And here were twenty boys, not one
of them more than twelve or thirteen years old, working through long
hours. The heat was stifling, and the fuzz from the wool made it worse.
They wore no stockings or sho