Fresh off the streets and holding on to the hand of the young man who brought him in, the child peered curiously about the dimly lit hallway.

Tugging absently at her apron, the girl who had opened the front door for the two, disappeared through the threshold of a door to the left, which had opened to allow a tall, round-faced woman to step in. At the sight of the little boy, now a few steps away from the man and still looking around, and a familiar sheepish grin on a freckled face, she frowned.

"Found him a few streets away from here," began the man hurriedly, "he's not mine or anything, Martha. Says he's lost his mother," at this the two exchanged a significant look. "'s not a good time of year for living on the streets," he finished awkwardly.

It was the 28th of November and the days had been growing steadily colder as winter approached. Temperatures were not quite freezing yet, but it was cold enough that the children of Wool's Orphanage had mostly stopped playing outside.

"We hardly have any room left for another," Martha replied absently, although she was already running through room assignments in her mind for a place to fit an extra little person. "And I see you've yet to kick the habit of bring in strays, Frankie. It's been two years." she added to the young man who had once occupied room 22.

"Well, habit as you say" He shrugged, more at ease now that Martha had acquiesced and turned her attention to the child. "I'd best be off now." And to the boy, he said "Now you behave yourself. Be good to Martha and Mrs Cole, you hear?"

"You're leaving?" The boy asked as the man, Frank, turned to go.

"Ah, not to worry, you'll be taken care of." Was his reply accompanied by what he thought was a reassuring smile, and then the man let himself out, Martha locking the door behind him.

She stared down at the child mutely for minute and then smiled wanly as he stared back just as seriously with bright green eyes, unintentionally mirroring her own expression. "We'll find you somewhere to sleep for the night and sort things out tomorrow." She muttered more to herself.

"Come along then," Martha said more loudly, holding her right hand palm-up to the boy - who took it in a light grip.

-8-

They entered a small room with a tiny sofa, shelves, differently shaped chairs and a rather messy desk.

Martha hoped Mrs Cole would not mind her housing their newest charge in her office for a night. It was one of the few rooms with proper heating after all. She sighed a little as the boy laid down on the sofa timidly, as directed, and used the throw like a blanket to tuck him in. Perhaps he was tired, for he immediately curled into the worn but soft fabric. Such docility from a child of three or four, as he appeared to be, definitely was something to be thankful for. But his eyes were still wide and followed her every movement.

Martha was just about to turn off the lamp when she suddenly remembered something important.

"Hey little boy. What is your name?" She asked, only half expecting a reply.

The woman went ahead and turned off the lamp when the silence grew uncomfortable. Moving into the threshold of the exit, she was silhouetted by light from the corridor as the boy took a breath and said softly, "Harry."

"Harry?" Martha repeated. "Just Harry?"

There was silence again, and she said, "Well, goodnight Harry," before leaving for her own bed.

-8-

Nothing wrong with showing a little kindness and attention for one who would be getting precious little of both, for the next decade or so, Martha thought to herself and closed her eyes.