He was a reserved man,
and dignified almost to austerity, but the child had come below it all
and rested upon his very heart, so that she scarcely missed the
mother's love that had been taken away. There was a wonderful
companionship between them, for she had many of his own ways, being
thoughtful and serious beyond her years.
One day, while she was lying with the fever burning brightly in her
checks, she said suddenly:
"Papa, I wish I could do something good for a whole lot of children!"
"What would you like to do, dear?" asked the Commissioner. "Give
them a party?"
"Oh, I don't mean those kind. I mean poor children who haven't homes,
and aren't loved and cared for as I am. I tell you what, papa!"
"What, my own child?"
"If I shouldn't get well, I'll leave them you--not _give_ you, but
just lend you, for you must come to mamma and me when you die too. If
you can find time, wouldn't you do something to help them, if I ask
you, papa?"
"Hush, hush dear, dear child," said the Commissioner, holding her hot
little hand against his cheek; "you'll get well real soon, and you and
I will see what we can do for them together."
But in whatsoever paths of benevolence, thus vaguely premeditated, the
Commissioner might tread, he was not to have the company of his
beloved.
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