and unshaven cheek. "I'll do it, little boy; I will be your
father."

Then David asked encouragingly:

"Is it your picture that Mother keeps in her heart?"

"No, David; not mine, I'm afraid."

This was a sad blow to the little boy. A very solemn look came
into his face.

"You won't do," he said, "unless you can get your picture into
Mother's heart."

For a second time Dr. Redfield smiled, and then he asked:

"How did you get here?"

David did not answer the question; perhaps he did not hear what
was said to him. A thoughtful look had come into his face, and
presently he was asking, with great earnestness in his voice:

"Why have I got curls for? Why don't I have trouvers? Why don't I
have warts on me?"

Dr. Redfield was walking hand in hand with the little boy at his
side. They were going toward the place where the horse and buggy
stood waiting, and as they strode along the little boy kept
falling over his chubby legs. It was hard for him to go so fast,