This is Ernst," said the voice at
the other end of the wire. "I have just remembered that I had asked you
down-town for supper."

"I would rather thank God fasting," I replied, very softly, and hung the
receiver on its hook.

CHAPTER XII. BENNIE THE CONSOLER

In a corner of Frau Nirlanger's bedroom, sheltered from draughts and
glaring light, is a little wooden bed, painted blue and ornamented with
stout red roses that are faded by time and much abuse. Every evening at
eight o'clock three anxious-browed women hold low-spoken conclave about
the quaint old bed, while its occupant sleeps and smiles as he sleeps,
and clasps to his breast a chewed-looking woolly dog. For a new joy has
come to the sad little Frau Nirlanger, and I, quite by accident, was the
cause of bringing it to her. The queer little blue bed, with its faded
roses, was brought down from the attic by Frau Knapf, for she is one of
the three foster mothers of the small occupant of the bed. The occupant
of the bed is named Bennie, and a corporation formed for the purpose
of bringing him up in the way he should go is composed of: Dawn
O'Hara Orme, President and Distracted Guardian; Mrs. Konrad Nirlanger,
Cuddler-in-chief and Authority on the Subject of Bennie's Bed-time; Mr.
Blackie Griffith, Good Angel, General Cut-up and Monitor off'n Bennie's
Neckties and Toys; Dr. Ernst von Gerhard, Chief Medical Adviser, and
Sweller of the Exchequer, with the Privilege of Selecting All Candies.
Members of the corporation meet with great frequency evenings and
Sundays, much to the detriment of a certain Book-in-the-making with
which Dawn O'Hara Orme was wont to struggle o' evenings.

Bennie had been one of those little tragedies that find their way into
juvenile court. Bennie's story was common enough, but Bennie himself had
been different. Ten minutes after his first appearance in the court room
everyone, from the big, bald judge to the newest probation officer, had
fallen in love with him. Somehow, you wanted to smooth the hair from
his forehead, tip his pale little face upward, and very gently kiss his
smooth, white brow. Which alone was enough to distinguish Bennie, for
Juvenile court children, as a rule, are distinctly not kissable.

Bennie's mother was accused of being unfit to care for her boy, and
Bennie was temporarily installed in the Detention Home. There the
superintendent and his plump and kindly wife had fallen head over heels
in love with him, and ha