There was no mistaking him. That big, ugly scar
branded him on cheek and forehead like another Cain.
"And to think that that terrible man was harboured on my place!"
exclaimed Mrs. MacIntyre when she heard of it. "And you boys were down
there in the cabin with him for hours! Sat beside him and talked with
him! What will your mother say? I feel as if you had been exposed to the
smallpox, and I cannot be too thankful now that the boy who was with him
was not brought here. He isn't a fit companion for you. Not that the
poor little unfortunate is to blame. He cannot help being a child of the
slums, and he must be put in an orphan asylum or a reform school at
once. It is probably the only thing that can save him from growing up to
be a criminal like the man who brought him here. I shall see what can be
done about it, as soon as possible."
"A child of the slums!" Malcolm and Keith repeated the expression
afterward, with only a vague idea of its meaning. It seemed to set poor
Jonesy apart from themselves as something unclean,--something that their
happy, well-filled lives must not be allowed to touch.
Maybe if Jonesy had been an attractive child, with a sensitive mouth,
and big, appealing eyes, he might have found his way more easily into
people's hearts. But he was a lean, snub-nosed little fellow, with a
freckled face and neglected hair.
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