Flint's rooms would arouse the rabid envy of the cleanest and most
scourful she in Holland itself.

Now as the months wore away there had sprung up between him, and Mary
Virginia and Laurence, one of those odd comradely friendships which
sometime unite the totally unlike with bonds hard to break. His
spotless workroom had a fascination for the youngsters. They were
always in and out, now with a cocoon, now an imago, now a larva, and
then again to see how those they had already brought were getting
along.

The lame man was an unrivaled listener--a circumstance which endeared
him to youthful Laurence, in whom thoughts and the urge to express
these thoughts in words rose like sap. This fresh and untainted
confidence, poured out so naively, taught John Flint more than any
words or prayers of mine could have done. It opened to him a world
into which, his eyes had not heretofore been permitted to look; and
the result was all the more sure and certain, in that the children had
no faintest idea of the effect they were producing. They had no end to
gain, no ax to grind; they merely spoke the truth as they knew it, and
this unselfish and hopeful truthfulness aroused his interest and
curiosity; it even compelled his admiration. He couldn't dismiss
_this_ as "hot air"!

I was more than glad to have him thus taught. It was a salutary
lesson, tending to temper his overweening confidence and to humble his
contemptuous pride. In his own world he had been supreme, a figure of
sinister importance. Brash had been crook or cop who had taught or
caught Slippy McGee! But in this new atmosphere, in which he breathed
with difficulty, the young had been given him for guides. They led
him, where a grownup had failed.

Mary Virginia was particularly fond of him. He had as little to say to
her as to Laurence, but he looked at her with interested eyes that
never lost a movement; she knew he never missed a word, either; his
silence was friendly, and the little girl had a pleasant fashion of
taking folk for granted. Hers was one of those large natures which
give lavishly, shares itself freely, but does not demand much in
return. She gave with an open hand to her quiet listener--her books,
her music, her amusing and innocent views, her frank comments, her
truthfulness, her sweet brave gaiety; and he absorbed it like a
sponge. It delighted her to find and bring the proper food-plants for
his cages. And she being one of those who sing while they wo