Mr. Bowen hastened to make change, but Mr.
Bovyer shook his head and passed on. I turned to look at Mr. Bowen, and
saw his face suddenly light up so cheerfully that I concluded he had
received a generous donation. I led Mr. Bovyer up where the children,
growing now very curious over the Christmas Tree, were with difficulty
preserving the proprieties of the occasion. He looked them over
carefully, as if they were some distinct species from another planet, and
then turning to me, said, "Did you say these were all poor children?"
"Their fathers are day laborers, and some of them are without that useful
adjunct to childhood."
"They look rosy and happy."
"I presume they would look happy under present circumstances if their
fathers were tramps. You should see the homes some of them will return to
when they leave here. You would wonder at the forgetfulness of
childhood."
"How did you chance to think of this merry gathering?"
"I am not sure it was chance. All our thoughts do not come in that way."
"Are the children here who are to reap the largest benefit from this
affair?"
"Yes. Do you see those pale, pinched-faced girls with the pink-cotton
frocks on, sitting at the end of that farthest bench, and these two boys
just in front with clothes several sizes too large?"
He stood silently regarding them for some time, and then said: "The world
is strangely divided. It is one of the reasons that makes me doubt the
existence of a beneficent All-Father.
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