The Poorhouse Waif and His Divine Teacher | Page 6

the mother's request, he had told Mr. Engler, and he would appreciate
having the child brought to him as quickly as possible, as he had no
time to lose.
"And so the heartless woman's sent for her child at last, has she?" Mr.
Engler said in a tone that might have inferred several things.
"Yes, that was her order," was the reply, and Mr. Engler left the room
at once to bring the fatherless and worse than motherless boy. The
steward smiled as he thought of the contrast between Edwin and his

uncle. The latter, a large, powerful man, was well-dressed and was
apparently of a strong will, and the peculiar light within his eye and the
hard lines about his mouth revealed the same characteristics that had
been so prominent in the mother. Edwin, on the other hand, was small
for his age and hollow-eyed from lack of sufficient food to satisfy his
hunger, and his clothes were ragged and soiled. The honest,
straightforward expression of the large brown eyes and the marks of
refinement around his mouth made up, however, for what he otherwise
lacked.
In a room where several other children were playing Edwin was found,
but he was taking no part in the games. In fact, many things were done
by the children in the poorhouse day after day that he did not enjoy and
in which he would take no part. If questioned he could not have
explained why he felt as he did about their actions, but he preferred
turning to the window, where he could look out upon God's creation.
The little birds that had charmed him in his rambles had long been his
friends, and as he gazed through an open window, he could see a nest
full of small fuzzy heads waiting for the parent birds to bring them a
meal of worms. Many times the bills had been raised and the mouths
opened wide because of the rustling of the leaves above or below them,
and the boy was glad when they could realize that their expected meal
was there.
In answer to Mr. Engler's order to come at once to the office, Edwin
followed, but before he entered the room, Mrs. Engler saw to it that his
clothing was changed, so that he would be a little more respectable to
appear in public.
It was evident that, when Edwin, clad in a pair of faded blue overalls
and shirt, entered the presence of his uncle, the latter was greatly
surprized at the slight figure before him, but he sought to conceal his
thoughts and said, "Edwin, I'm your uncle and have come to take you
home to your mother."
Very pleasantly these words fell upon Edwin's ears, but he associated
them with his rambles; for he knew nothing at all about his father or
mother, not even that any such relation was necessary in life. He

therefore was glad, but said nothing, for he knew not what to say.
Mistaking the meaning of his silence for timidity, the uncle spoke
again.
"Come on now, boy; I am here with a horse and buggy to take you to
your mother's home. Will you be glad to see your mother?"
But again Edwin was at a loss to know what to say, but his thoughts
were that the man before him was very large. It was not until his uncle
said impatiently, "Come along!" that he understood, and this command
he instantly obeyed.
A moment later the two were standing beside a large noble-looking
brown horse that was hitched to an open buggy. Next he felt a pair of
strong hands placed upon his shoulders, and then he was lifted high in
the air to a seat that was so different from the bed of the old ox-wagon
that he had to examine and rub his hand over the soft cushion. When
his uncle took the seat beside him, everything about him began to move,
and he thought of the few times when the children had been taken for
rides behind the large team of oxen. But he had never been away from
the poorhouse farm, and when they passed from the driveway on to the
public highway, he remembered that the children had been forbidden to
leave the place, and he wondered what it all meant. He was not troubled,
however, for Mr. Engler knew of his going, and he reasoned that since
he was not going of his own accord, it must be all right.
As there was nothing else for him to do as he and his uncle rode along,
he began to look about at the many interesting things. The herds in the
large meadow-lands reminded him of the poorhouse cattle, and as he
saw the little "jumper-men" skipping