At daylight, I was half wakened by the sound of chopping. Againg, it was so even in texture that I went back to sleep. When I left my bed in the cool moming, the boy had come and gone, and a stack of kindling was neat against the cabin wall. He came again after school in the afternoon and and worked until time to return to the orphanage. His name was Jeny; he was twelve years old, and he had been at the orphanage since he was four.

I could picture him at four, with the same grave grey-blue eyes and the sameindependence? No, the word that comes to me is 'integrity. The word means something very special to me, and the quality for which I use it is a rare one My father had it-there is another of whom I am almost sure-but almost no man of my acquaintance posesses it with the clarity, the purity, the simplicity of a mountain stream. But, the boy Jeny had it. It is beddedon cœurage, but it is more than brave. It is honest, butis more than honesty. [......] He was freewill agent and he chose to do careful work, and if he failed, he took the resposibility without subterfuge.

MCQ: 21.4k CQ: 233

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