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“It happens to be his mother who was English,” the Professor calmly reminded her.

“Never mind, Winthrop. His relations certainly ought to be found, anyway. It’s too dreadful to think of the awful life that mere child has had for the last six years—drifting about, half starved, ill-treated—oh, Winthrop! And his wretched relations are probably living like lords—probably are lords, with castles and things!”

“Probably not quite all of them, my dear.”

“Anyway, Winthrop, I think something ought to be done. I think you ought to do something about it.”

But the Professor declined to interfere.

“I’ll have a talk with the boy, if you like,” he conceded, “but you must remember that since his mother’s people disowned her, they are not likely to admit that he has any claims on them—indeed, he has no claims while his father is still alive. Of course, if he could be found he could be forced to provide for the boy.”

“Then he ought to be found, Winthrop.”

“It might be a difficult matter, and in my opinion he was a parent of whom Tony was well rid.”

“But, Winthrop, he’s only fifteen, and he’s earned his own living since he was ten—ten, Winthrop! Oh, he ought to be helped! How is he to be properly educated? I think it’s dreadful.”

“Don’t you worry about Tony, my child,” said the Professor. “He’ll get through all right every time, you’ll see it won’t hurt him, any of this up and down business.”

“You don’t seem to consider that it’s been pretty nearly all ‘down.’. . . Well, I’ll look after him myself. I don’t want him ever to leave us.”

“He shall certainly stay as long as he wants,” Winthrop agreed. “As for education, he’s better informed than most boys of his age, whenever and however he has picked it