wouldn't want him as long as the others. If I lived in a palace and
was a royal lady I'd have a harp longer than anything else, but Father
says it's on account of the food. Food is awful high, and people would
rather eat than hear harps. Oh, there's Father! I must go, Mr. Van.
Thank you ever so much for holding me."

With a movement that was scientific in its dexterity the child slipped
from Van Landing's arms and jumped from the railing to the porch, and
without so much as a turn of the head ran down the steps and across
the street. Darting in between two large motor-cars, Van Landing saw
her run forward and take the hand of a man who was standing near the
side-entrance of the house in which the wedding had taken place. It
was too dark to distinguish his face, and in the confusion following
the calling of numbers and the hurrying off of guests he felt
instinctively that the man shrank back, as is the way of the blind,
and an impulse to go over and lead him away made him start down the
steps.

At the foot he stopped. To go over was impossible. He would be
recognized. For half a moment he hesitated. It was his dinner hour,
and he should go home; but he didn't want to go home. The stillness
and orderliness of his handsome apartment was suddenly irritating. It
seemed a piece of mechanism made to go so smoothly and noiselessly
that every element of humanness was lacking in it; and with something
of a shiver he turned down the street and in the direction opposite to
that wherein he lived. The child's eyes had stirred memories that must
be kept down; and she was right. He was a poor man. He had a house,
but no home, and he had no Christmas presents to buy.