atesman," said Helen, smiling.

"But he is making him a nuisance instead. Good-night."

"Good-night, papa."

"Oh, by the way, my dear, I shall have to prove my theory."

"Indeed, papa!"

"Yes. Good-night."

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE CHOICE OF A BOY.

Next morning Dr Grayson took his gold-headed cane, and walked down to
the workhouse.

Upon dragging at the bell the porter opened the gate obsequiously, and
sent a messenger to tell the master Dr Grayson had called.

"Good morning, Hippetts," said the doctor, who being a Poor-Law
Guardian, and a wealthy inhabitant of the place, was received with
smiles by the important master.

"Good morning, sir. Called to look round."

"No, Hippetts, no," said the doctor, in the tone and manner of one
making an inquiry about some ordinary article of merchandise; "got any
boys?"

"Boys, sir; the house swarms with them."

"Ah, well, show me some."

"Show you some, sir?"

"Yes. I want a boy."

"Certainly, sir. This way, sir. About what age, sir!"

"Eleven or twelve--not particular," said the doctor. Then to himself:
"About the age of young Danby."

"I see, sir," said the master. "Stout, strong, useful boy for a
buttons."

"Nonsense!" said the doctor testily, "I want a boy to adopt."

"Oh!" said the master staring, and wondering whether rich philosophical
Dr Grayson was in his right mind.

He led the way along some whitewashed passages, and across a gravel
yard, to a long, low building, from which came the well-known humming
hum of many voices, among which a kind of chorus could be distinguished,
and from time to time the sharp striking of a cane upon a desk, followed
by a penetrating "Hush! hush!"

As the master opened the door, a hot puff of stuffy, unpleasantly close
air came out, and the noise ceased as if by magic, though there were
about three hundred boys in the long, open-roofed room.

The doctor cast his eye round and saw a crowd of heads, the
schoolmaster, and besides these--whitewash. The walls, the ceiling, the
beams were all whitewashed. The floor was hearth-stoned, but it seemed
to be whitewashed, and even the boys' faces appeared to have been
touched over with a thin solution laid on with the whitewash brush.

Every eye was turned upon the visitor, and the doctor frowned as he
looked round at the pallid, wan-looking, inanimate countenances which
offered themselves to his view. The boys were not badly fed; they were
clean; they were war