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“My dear, he is most likely in shock. His parents died of influenza and there is no family for Henry. He would benefit from an adoption.”
“Yes, you are most likely right. However, who would have the money? People can barely feed themselves these days. It being the festive season and all. Little Henry will have to adjust to being part of the group. ’Tis just so sad.”
“You speak the truth. Donations have been down this year. I have been to everyone who has given in past years, and nothing—not because they don’t want to. ’Tis because things are too tight. I don’t believe we could afford to feed these children tonight, had we not gotten the generous Wendt donation.”
Agatha’s face colored in shame as she looked at her brother. “What is he talking about? I sent him away…” her voice faded.
He looked at her and nodded. “I think the answer will be apparent in time.”
“You speak in riddles and it frustrates me, brother,” she answered carefully. “What will happen to little Henry?”
“Ah! So therecouldbe a heart in there,” he said irreverently. “It is almost Christmas, and adoptions are rare. Most likely he will grow up in the orphanage, never to know a parent’s love.”
A lump formed in her throat. “Enough. This is torture, Thomas. Please go away. Let me sleep.”
“I wish I could, but I fear we must continue. You have more to learn,” he said.
