Here Arthur stood
like a statue, holding fast to Jerrie, and gazing down upon the
neglected grave, on which clumps of withered grass were growing and
blowing in the November wind.
'Gretchen is not here in this place,' he said mournfully, with a shake
of his head. 'She couldn't rest there a moment, for she liked everything
beautiful and bright, and this is like the Potter's field. But we'll put
up a monument for her, and make the place attractive; and by and by,
when she is tired of wandering about, she may come back and rest when
she sees what we have done, and knows that we have been here. We will
buy that house too, he said, as he walked away from the lonely grave;
and the next day Harold found the owner of the place and commenced
negotiations for the house, which soon changed hands and became the
property of Arthur.
Just what he meant to do with it he did not know, until Jerrie suggested
that he should make it an asylum for homeless children, who should
receive the kindest and tenderest care from competent and trustworthy
nurses, hired for the purpose.
'Yes, I'll do it,' Arthur said, 'and will call it "The Gretchen Home."
Maybe she will come there some time, and know what I have done.'
This idea once in his mind, Arthur never let go of it until the house
was fitted up with school-rooms and dormitories, with the little white
beds and chairs suggestive of the little ones rescued from want and
misery and placed in the Gretchen home until it would hold no more.
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