Free Gods Men by Pearl S. Buck

only grateful that he did not turn them into the streets.
    After breakfast Clem waited for his father to go into the inner room and then he got the ragged blue cotton Chinese garments and put them on where the girls could not see him and know that he was going out. Not bidding even his mother good-by, waiting until she was in the small kitchen, he climbed the wall so that he would not leave the gate open and dropped into the alleyway.
    Where in all the vast enemy city should he go for food? He dared not go to Mr. Fong. There was nowhere to go indeed except to Mr. Lane, alone in the compound. He had given them food before and he would give again, and Clem did not mind going now that William was not there. So by alleyways and back streets, all empty, he crept through the city toward the compound. None of the compounds were in the Legation Quarter, but this one was nearer than the others.
    The gate was locked when he came and he pounded on it softly with his fists. A small square opened above him and the gateman’s face looked out. When he saw the foreign boy, he drew back the bar and let him in.
    â€œIs the Teacher at home?” Clem asked safely inside.
    â€œHe is always at home now,” the gateman replied. “What is your business?”
    â€œI have something to ask,” Clem said.
    In usual times the gateman would have refused him, as Clem well knew, but now he refused no white face. These foreigners were all in piteous danger and he was a fool to stay by his own white master, but still he did. He had no wife or child and there was only his own life, which was worth little. Thus he plodded ahead of Clem to the big square house and knocked at the front door. It was opened by Dr. Lane himself, who was surprised to see a foreign boy.
    â€œDo I know you?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t think so,” Clem replied. “But I know you, sir. I am Clem Miller.”
    â€œOh yes,” Dr. Lane said vaguely. “The Millers—I know your father. Come in. You shouldn’t be out on the streets.”
    â€œMy father doesn’t know that I am,” Clem replied. He stepped into the house. It looked bare and cool.
    â€œMy family is in Shanghai,” Dr. Lane said. “I’m camping out. Did you know my son William? Sit down.”
    â€œI’ve seen him,” Clem said with caution. He sat down on the edge of a carved chair.
    Dr. Lane continued to look at him with sad dark eyes. He had a kind face except that it looked as though he were not listening.
    â€œWhat did you come for?” he asked in a gentle voice.
    â€œWe have no food,” Clem said simply. The blood rushed into his pale face. “I know you have helped us before, Dr. Lane. I wouldn’t have come if I had known where else to go.”
    â€œThat is quite all right,” Dr. Lane said. “I’ll be glad—”
    Clem interrupted him. “One more thing, Dr. Lane. I don’t consider that when I ask you for food it’s God’s providing. I know it isn’t. I don’t think like my father on that. I wouldn’t come just for myself, either. But there’s my mother and my two sisters.”
    â€œThat’s all right,” Dr. Lane said. “I have more food than I need. A good many tins of stuff—we had just got up an order from Tientsin before the railroad was cut.”
    The house was dusty, Clem saw, and the kitchen was empty. Dr. Lane seemed helpless. “I don’t know just where things are. The cook left yesterday. He was the last one. I can’t blame them. It’s very dangerous to stay.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you go with William?” Clem asked.
    Dr. Lane was still searching. “Here’s a basket. I didn’t go because of my parish. The Chinese Christians are having a time of sore trial. I can’t do much for them except just stay. Here are some tins of milk and some meat—potted ham, I believe.”
    He filled the basket and put