90 THE KALLIKAK FAMILY 



ing a few tracks the back door was reached. Such an 

 unwonted spectacle as a visitor attracted instant atten- 

 tion. The door opened, revealing a sight to which, alas, 

 the field worker was only too accustomed. She gazed 

 aghast at what appeared to her to be a procession of 

 imbeciles. The tall, emaciated, staggering man at the 

 head braced himself against a tree, while the rest stopped 

 and stood with a fixed, stupid stare. Quickly regain- 

 ing control, the field worker said pleasantly, "Good 

 afternoon, Mr. Saunders. I hope you don't mind my 

 intruding on you this way, but you see I am looking up 

 the children of the neighborhood, and I was sorry not 

 to find any of yours in the *Cedarhill school to-day.'* 

 He at once thought he had to do with a school inspector, 

 and his answer bears no setting forth in print. It was 

 an incoherent, disjointed, explosive protest against 

 school laws in general and fate in particular. It was 

 mixed up with convulsive sobs, while his bleared, swollen 

 eyes brimmed over with tears. The field worker began 

 to feel real sympathy for the man, although she knew 

 that he was drunk and that drunkards are easily moved 

 to tears. "Oh, I am sorry for you," she said; "your 

 wife then is dead, is she?" "Yes, she's dead!" he 

 answered with a wild gesture, "they took her right 

 out of that room they said they'd cure her, if I'd let 



