Waddington. But certainly this was the most astounding development
of all! The child was utterly transformed. There was no sign of his
mother's hand upon his clothes, his neatly brushed hair or his shiny
face. His eyes, too, seemed to have grown bigger. Alfred had been a
vulgar little boy, addicted to slang and immoderately fond of noisy
games. Burton tried to call him back to his mind. It was impossible to
connect him in any way with the child whom, through a crack in the door,
he could see standing upon a chair the better to scrutinize closely the
few engravings which hung upon the wall. Without a doubt, a new
responsibility in life had arrived. To meet it, Burton had a little
less than two pounds, and the weekly money to send to Ellen within a few
days. He took Alfred out to luncheon.
"I am afraid," he said, beginning their conversation anew, "that even if
I am able to keep you with me for a short time, you will find it
exceedingly dull."
"I do not mind being dull in the least, father," the boy replied.
"Mother is always wanting me to play silly games out in the street, with
boys whom I don't like at all."
"I used to see you playing with them often," his father reminded him.
The child looked puzzled.
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