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 and unhappy, but that’s all over now. He’s going to have a fresh start and grow up to be a good man…. I’m ashamed of all of you.”

“Is he going to be in our class?” Harold demanded.

“Yes.”

“Then I ain’t. I ain’t goin’ to be in any Sunday school with a murderer. My grandfather said I wasn’t to play with him or have anythin’ to do with him.”

“Then your grandfather ought to be ashamed of himself,” said Mary, with more heat than diplomacy. She turned, conscious that someone was behind her and saw Malcolm Crane standing in the aisle. He pointed to Angus and his face was forbidding.

“Do you—er—think this exactly—wise?” he asked coldly.

“Why not?”

“Why—ah—it seems hardly proper to have this boy—fresh from jail—mingling with these others.”

“Nonsense,” said Mary with acerbity.

“He’s ignorant and dirty. Think of his squalid family. It’s not right to bring him here where he can taint these other little fellows who come from Christian homes.”

“You can see for yourself that he’s clean,” said