"You can't think of anybody who might like to take this little David
Allison, can you, my dear?" William King asked his wife at breakfast
the next morning.

"I certainly cannot," Martha said decidedly. "I think it's a very
dangerous thing to take unknown children into your family. I suppose
you think I ought to offer to do it? But in the first place, I'm very
tired, and in the second place, I don't like boys. If it was a girl it
might be different."

"No doubt we could find a girl," William began, but she interrupted
him.

"Girls are a great expense. And then, as I said--unknown children!--
they might turn into anything. They might have evil tendencies; they
probably have. If the parents die early, it's a sign of weakness of
some sort. I've no doubt this boy's father drank. I don't want to seem
unkind, but I must say flatly and frankly that considering how hard it
is for us to make both ends meet--as you keep up a sort of free
practice--I don't think it's prudent to suggest any new
responsibilities and expenses."

"Oh, I wasn't making suggestions," William King said. "I guess we're
not the people to bring up a child. I'd spoil him, I've no doubt."

"I'm sure you would!" Martha said, greatly relieved. "It would be the
worst possible thing for him. But Willy, there's that Mrs. Richie?"