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Rh “That’s all, Mrs. Garden, but don’t you think I’m pretty far along for my age?” asked Mark. “Mr. and Mrs. Moulton had found out my birthday date some time ago. Dear Garden blossoms, they’ve given me a present.” The boy stopped short; evidently he was profoundly moved.

“Oh, Mark, what?” cried Mary, leaning forward, catching his excitement.

“A present with a condition attached to it, but such a condition!” Mark resumed. “They have asked me to promise to devote my life to carrying on Mr. Moulton’s work; with him, while he lives, for him after he is dead. Mr. Moulton thinks that I shall be competent to do this, and he has asked me to undertake it. It’s a great thing—both ways. A great thing to do and a great opportunity for me.” Again Mark paused.

“It’s big, old Mark!” said Win. “But the present in return?”

“If I will accept Mr. Moulton’s trust in me and devote my life to his work, he—they, his wife and he—will adopt me legally, not taking their name, you know, but as their heir. They’ll make me their son. It’s—it’s awful!” Mark choked, and his head went down on the back of his chair, to which he turned his face, utterly unable to command himself any longer.