{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_75657/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_75657","id":"gutenberg_75657","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75657","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Charity -- Juvenile fiction","Christian life -- Juvenile fiction","Heaven -- Juvenile fiction","Poverty -- Juvenile fiction","Siblings -- Juvenile fiction","Sunday schools -- Juvenile fiction","Youth and death -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.\n\n\n[Illustration: A CHILD OF POVERTY.]\n\n\n\n                      FOLLOWING\n\n                            HEAVENWARD\n\n\n                             OR\n\n                 _The Story of Alfred Reid_\n\n\n                             BY\n\n                           Pansy\n\n                      [Isabella Alden]\n\n    AUTHOR OF \"A NEW GRAFT ON THE FAMILY TREE,\" \"ESTHER REID,\"\n             \"WORKERS TOGETHER,\" \"A HEDGE FENCE,\"\n                           &c. &c.\n\n\n                      [Illustration]\n\n\n\n                   THOMAS NELSON AND SONS\n              London, Edinburgh, and New York\n                        \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\n                            1902\n\n\n\n                         Contents.\n\n                      [Illustration]\n\nChapter.\n\n      I. IT MAY BE THAT SHE IS WORKING STILL\n\n     II. WHAT DID IT ALL AMOUNT TO, ANYHOW?\n\n    III. ANYTHING UNCOMMON ABOUT ME?\n\n     IV. I DON'T BLAME THEM\n\n      V. A CHRISTIAN HOME\n\n     VI. SATAN, HE HAS 'EM ALL THE WEEK\n\n    VII. WHAT A LITTLE SCHEMER IT IS!\n\n   VIII. WHAT WOULD YOU DO, DEAR?\n\n     IX. TREMENDOUS FACTS!\n\n      X. AND SHE ALWAYS TRIED\n\n     XI. I HAVE BUT TO TRY AGAIN\n\n    XII. I WANT THEM TO GET USED TO PARLOURS\n\n   XIII. LET US BE FASHIONABLE\n\n    XIV. SOMETHING'S HAPPENED\n\n     XV. WHAT MADE HER DIFFERENT?\n\n    XVI. HERE WAS HIS OPPORTUNITY\n\n   XVII. I WONDER WHAT THEY'RE ALL AFTER\n\n  XVIII. YOUR'N'S THE WAY!\n\n    XIX. WE HAVE BEGUN BACKWARDS\n\n     XX. OH, WHAT A NICE THOUGHT!\n\n    XXI. HAD HIS EXPERIMENT BEEN TOO SEVERE?\n\n   XXII. SOME PEOPLE ARE HARD TO WARN\n\n  XXIII. PART OF THE GREAT WELL-TO-DO WORLD\n\n   XXIV. FOR YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT MAY COME\n\n    XXV. WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO ACCOMPLISH?\n\n   XXVI. O LORD, TAKE DIRK TOO!\n\n  XXVII. AN AWFUL PROBLEM!\n\n XXVIII. MAY SHE GO WITH ME?\n\n   XXIX. WHAT IF I BELONGED?\n\n    XXX. IT IS NO MADE-UP AFFAIR\n\n   XXXI. THEIR WORKS DO FOLLOW THEM\n\n\n\n                   FOLLOWING HEAVENWARD.\n\n                      [Illustration]\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\"IT MAY BE THAT SHE IS WORKING STILL.\"\n\nIT was raining drearily, and but few people were abroad\u2014that is, few\ncomparatively speaking, though the streets seemed full of hurrying,\ndripping mortals. In the large dry-goods store business was by no\nmeans so brisk as on sunny days, and one of the younger clerks, whose\nstation was near a window looking out upon the thoroughfare, had time\nto stand gazing at the passers-by. They did not seem to interest him\nparticularly, or else they puzzled him. His young, handsome face wore\na thoughtful look, almost a troubled expression about the eyes, which\nseemed to be gazing beyond the passers-by.\n\nJust across the aisle from him, a lady, seated in one of the\neasy-chairs set for the accommodation of shoppers, waited and watched\nhim; a young and pretty woman, tastefully, even elegantly-dressed, yet\nher costume was quite in keeping with the stormy day. The young man's\nface seemed to have special interest for her, though he was apparently\nunaware of her existence. A close observer would have discovered that\nshe was watching him with deeply interested eyes.\n\nWhatever served to hold the thoughts of the young man apparently grew\nin perplexity, for the troubled look continually deepened. At last,\nforgetting the possible listener, he addressed the dripping clouds\nperhaps\u2014at least, he was looking at them:\u2014\n\n\"I don't know how to do it, but something ought to be done. It is worse\nthan folly to expect good from the way that things are now managed.\nEsther would have known just what, and how; and how interested she\nwould have been! I try to do her work, and to 'redeem the time;' but\nthe simple truth is, I don't know how, and nobody else seems to.\"\n\nThese sentences were not given all at once, but murmured from time to\ntime at his unsympathetic audience outside.\n\nPatter, patter, patter! Drip, drip, drip! Steady, uncompromising\nbusiness. It was all the answer the clouds vouchsafed him.\n\nWith the listener inside it was different. The interested look changed\nto an eager one. She left her seat and moved toward the absorbed young\nman, breaking in on his reverie with the clearest of voices:\u2014\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\u2014but are you thinking of your sister? You are\nMr. Reid, I believe? I have heard of your sister's life, and of her\nbeautiful death, through a dear friend of my husband, who loved Esther.\nI have always wanted to know more about her. I wanted to get acquainted\nwith you, so I might ask you things about her. I am waiting now for my\nhusband to come and introduce us. But perhaps it isn't necessary. Do\nyou know who I am?\"\n\n\"It is Mrs. Roberts, I believe?\" the young man said, struggling with\nhis astonishment and embarrassment.\n\n\"Yes; and you are Mr. Alfred Reid. Well, now we know each other without\nany further ceremony. Will you tell me a little about your sister, Mr.\nReid'? You were thinking of her just now.\"\n\n\"I was missing her just now,\" said he, trying to smile, \"as I very\noften am. I was a little fellow when she died; but the older I grow,\nthe more difficult I find it to see how the world can spare her. She\nwas so full of plans for work, and there are so few like her.\"\n\n\"It may be that she is working still, in the person of her brother.\"\n\nHe shook his head energetically, though his face flushed.\n\n\"No, I can only blunder vaguely over work that I know she, with her\nenergetic ways and quick wits, could have done, and done well. It\nhappens that she was especially interested in a class of people of whom\nI know something. They need help, and I don't know how to help them. It\nseems to me that she could have done it.\"\n\n\"Will you tell me who the people are?\"\n\n\"It is a set of boys for whom nobody cares,\" he said, speaking sadly;\n\"it hardly seems possible that there could ever have been a time when\nanybody cared for them, though I suppose their mothers did when they\nwere little fellows.\"\n\nThus spoke the ignorant young man\u2014ignorant of the depths to which sin\nwill sink human nature, but rich in the memory of mother-love.\n\n\"I think of my sister Esther in connection with them,\" he said,\nspeaking apologetically, \"because she was peculiarly interested in wild\nyoung fellows like them; she thought they might be reached, that there\nmight be ways invented for reaching them, such as had not been yet. She\nhad plans, and they were good ones. I thought so then, little fellow\nthat I was, and I think so now, only nobody is at work carrying them\nout; and I wonder sometimes if Esther could have been needed in heaven\nhalf as much as she is needed on earth. She used to talk to me a great\ndeal about what might be done. I think now that she wanted to put me in\nthe way of taking up some of the work that she would have done; but she\nmistook her material. I can't do it.\"\n\n\"Are you sure? You are young yet; and besides, you may be doing more\nthan you think. Couldn't I help? What is there that needs doing for\nthese particular young men?\"\n\n\"Everything!\" he said excitedly. \"If you should see them, you would get\na faint idea of it. They come occasionally down to the Sabbath school\nat the South End; in fact, they come quite frequently, though I'm sure\nI can't see why. It certainly isn't for any good that they get. Their\nactions, Mrs. Roberts, surpass anything that I ever imagined.\"\n\n\"Who is their teacher?\"\n\n\"That would be a difficult question to answer. They have a different\nteacher every Sabbath. No one is willing to undertake the class twice.\nThey have tried all the teachers who attend regularly, and several who\nhave volunteered for once, and never would attempt it a second time.\nJust now there is no one who will make a venture.\"\n\n\"Have 'you' tried?\"\n\nHe shook his head emphatically.\n\n\"I know at least so much. Why, Mrs. Roberts, some of them are as old as\nI, and, indeed, I think one or two are older. No; we have secured the\nbest teachers that we could for them, but each one has been a failure.\nI suppose they must go.\"\n\n\"Go where?\"\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"What an awful question! Where 'will' they go, Mrs. Roberts, if we let\nthem slip now?\"\n\nHe was tremendously in earnest. One could not help feeling that he had\nstudied the possibilities, and felt the danger.\n\n\"Suppose I try to help! Shall I come and take that class next Sabbath?\"\n\nThis simple, directly-put question brought the young man suddenly from\nthe heights of his excitement into visible embarrassment. He looked\ndown on the small, fair lady, reaching hardly to his shoulder, attired\nin that unmistakable way which bespeaks the lady of wealth and culture,\nand could imagine nothing more incongruous than to have her seated\nbefore that class of swearing, spitting, fighting boys. Not that her\nwealth or her culture was an objection, but she looked so utterly\nunlike what he had imagined their teacher must be\u2014she was so small, so\nfrail, so fair and sweet, and ignorant of the ways of the great wicked\nworld, and especially of those great wicked boys. What could he say to\nher?\n\nHe was so manifestly embarrassed that the small lady laughed.\n\n\"You think I cannot do it,\" she said almost gaily.\n\nHe hastened to answer her.\n\n\"Indeed, you have no idea of the sort of class it is. I have given you\nno conception of it; I cannot. You would think yourself before a set of\nuncaged animals.\"\n\n\"Yes; and in case of failure I should only be where the others\nare who have tried and failed. If you will introduce me, and your\nsuperintendent will let me, I mean to try; and that will relieve you of\nthe dilemma of being entirely without a teacher for them.\"\n\nYoung Reid had nothing to say. He thought the attempt a piece of folly,\na worse than useless experiment; but how was he to say so to the wife\nof his employer?\n\nThat gentleman appeared just then, making haste.\n\n\"I was unavoidably detained,\" he explained; \"I feared you would grow\nweary of waiting.\u2014Ah, Reid, my wife has introduced herself, I see.\u2014Is\nhe the young man you were speaking of, Mrs. Roberts?\"\n\n\"The very young man\u2014Esther Reid's brother. He doesn't know how glad I\nam to have met him.\u2014Some day, when we are better acquainted, and you\ntrust me more fully, I am going to tell you how I became so deeply\ninterested in your dear sister. Meantime this little matter should be\ndefinitely settled.\u2014Mr. Roberts, I have invited myself to take a class\nto-morrow down at the South End Mission.\"\n\n\"Have you indeed?\"\n\nMr. Roberts spoke heartily, and seemed by no means dismayed, only a\ntrifle perplexed as to details.\n\n\"How can we manage it, Flossy? My prison class takes me in an opposite\ndirection at the same hour, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes; I thought of that. I propose to ask Mr. Reid to call for me, and\nshow me the way, and vouch for my good intentions after I reach there.\nDo you suppose he will do it?\"\n\nShe looked smilingly from her husband to young Reid, and both waited\nfor his answer.\n\n\"I obey directions,\" he said, bowing respectfully to Mr. Roberts. \"Am I\nto have the honour of being detailed for that service to-morrow?\"\n\n\"So Mrs. Roberts says,\" was the good-humoured reply.\n\nAnd then the merchant took his wife away to their waiting carriage that\nhad drawn up before the door, leaving Alfred Reid, if the truth must be\ntold, in a fume.\n\n\"Much she knows what she is talking about!\" he said, jerking certain\nboxes out of their places on the shelves, and then banging them back\nagain, seeming to suppose that he was by this process putting his\ndepartment in order for closing. \"Little bit of a dressed up doll!\nThey will tear her into ribbons, metaphorically, if not literally,\nbefore this time to-morrow. She thinks, because she is the wife of Evan\nRoberts, the great merchant, she can go anywhere and do anything, and\nthat people will respect her. She has never had anything to do with a\nset of fellows who care less than nothing about money and position,\nexcept to be ten times more insolent and outrageous in their conduct\nthan they would if she had less of it.\n\n\"I shall feel like a born idiot in presenting this pretty little doll\nto teach that class. Mr. Durant will think I have lost what few wits I\nhad. What can possess the woman to want to try? It is just because she\nhas no conception of what she is about. But Mr. Roberts must know. I\nwonder what he means by permitting it?\"\n\n\nIn very much the same state of mind did our young man pilot his new and\nunsought-for recruit into the crowded mission rooms of the South End on\nthe following Sabbath afternoon. She looked not one whit less able to\ncompete with the terrors which awaited the teacher of the formidable\nclass.\n\nHer dress was simplicity itself, according to Mrs. Roberts ideas of\nsimplicity; yet, from the row of ostrich tips that bobbed and nodded at\neach other, all around the front of her velvet hat, to the buttons of\nher neat-fitting boots, she seemed to bring a new atmosphere into the\nroom.\n\nYesterday's rain was over, and the pleasant south windows were aglow\nwith sunshine. As Mrs. Roberts sat down, the sunbeams came and played\nabout her face, and she seemed in keeping with them and with nothing\nelse around her.\n\nThe superintendent bestowed curious glances on her during the opening\nexercises. He had seen the shadow on young Reid's face when he seated\nher, and had found time to question:\u2014\n\n\"Whom have we here?\"\n\n\"Mrs. Evan Roberts. She wants to try the vacant class. 'I' did not ask\nher, Mr. Durant; she invited herself.\"\n\nMr. Durant looked over at her, and tried to keep his eyes from smiling.\n\n\"She looks very diminutive in every way for such an undertaking. They\nwill frighten her out before she commences, will they not?\"\n\n\"I presume so; but I didn't know what to do. She wanted to come, and I\ncould not tell her she must not.\"\n\n\"No, of course; the occasion is too rare to lose. Very few people\nask the privilege of trying that class. There is no teacher for them\nto-day; and your Mrs. Roberts must learn by experience that some things\nare more difficult than others. I will let her try it.\"\n\nMeantime \"the boys\" of the dreaded class were studying the new face.\nShe was the only person not already seated before a class, and they\nnaturally judged that she was to be their next victim. They looked at\nher, and then at one another, and winked, and coughed, and sneezed,\nand nudged elbows, and giggled outright, every one of them, meantime\nchewing tobacco with all their might, and expectorating freely wherever\nthey judged it would be most offensive.\n\nAlfred Reid watched them, inwardly groaning. Being used to their faces,\nhe could plainly read that they anticipated a richer time than usual,\nand rejoiced greatly over the youth and beauty of their victim.\n\nBut young Reid was not the only one who watched. Mrs. Roberts,\nwithout seeming to be aware of their presence, lost not a wriggle or\na nudge. She was studying her material, and it must be confessed that\nthey startled her not a little. They represented a different type of\nhumanity from her Chautauqua boys, or her boys in the old church at\nhome\u2014rather, an advanced stage of both those types.\n\nWhen Mr. Durant came toward her, the look on his face was not\nreassuring; it so plainly said that he expected failure, and was sorry\nfor her as well as for himself. However, with as good grace as he could\nassume, he led her to the seat prepared for the teacher, and gave her a\nformal introduction.\n\n\"Boys, this is Mrs. Roberts, who is willing to try to teach you to-day.\nI wish you would show her that you know how to behave yourselves.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts wished that he had left her to introduce herself, or that\nhe had said almost anything rather than what he did; the mischievous\ngleam in several pairs of eyes said that they meant to show her\nsomething that they considered far more interesting than that.\n\nMany were the sympathetic glances that were bestowed on the young and\npretty lady as she went to her task. As for Alfred Reid, there was more\nthan sympathy in his face. He was vexed with the young volunteer and\nvexed with himself.\n\nHe told himself savagely that this was what came of his silly habit of\nthinking aloud. If only he had kept his anxieties about that class to\nhimself, Mrs. Roberts would never have heard of it, and been tempted to\nput herself in such a ridiculous position; and if this episode did not\nbreak him of the habit, he did not know what would.\n\nHe was presently, however, given a class of small boys, with enough\nof original and acquired depravity about them to keep him intensely\nemployed, and the entire school settled to work.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\"WHAT DID IT ALL AMOUNT TO, ANYHOW?\"\n\nSETTLED, that is, so far as the class of boys in the corner would\npermit the use of that term. They had not settled in the least. Two of\nthem indulged in a louder burst of laughter than before, just as Mrs.\nRoberts took her seat. Yet her face was in nowise ruffled.\n\n\"Good-afternoon,\" she said, with as much courtesy as she would have\nused in addressing gentlemen. \"I wonder if you know that I am a\nstranger in this great city? You are almost the first acquaintances\nthat I am making among the young people, and I have a fancy that I\nwould like to have you all for my friends. Suppose we enter into a\ncompact to be excellent and faithful friends to one another? What do\nyou say?\"\n\nWhat were they to say? They were slightly taken aback, surprised into\nlistening quietly to the close of the strange sentence, and then giving\nno answer beyond violent nudges and aside looks. What did she mean?\nWas she \"chaffing\" them? This was unlike the opening of any lesson.\nIt certainly could not be the first question on the lesson-paper; nor\ndid it sound like certain well-meant admonitions to \"try to improve\nthe opportunity\" and \"learn all that they could.\" With each of these\ncommencements they were entirely familiar; but this was something new.\n\n\"Do you agree to the compact?\" she asked, while they waited, her face\nbright with smiles.\n\n\"Dunno about that,\" said one whom she very soon discovered occupied the\nposition of a ringleader; \"as a general thing, we like to be kind of\ncareful about our friendships. We might strike something that wasn't\nquite the thing with people in our position. You can't be too careful\nin a big city, you know.\"\n\nIt is impossible to give you an idea of the impishness with which this\nimpudent answer was jerked out, to the great amusement of the others,\nwho laughed immoderately.\n\nIt suited Mrs. Roberts to treat the reply with perfect seriousness and\ncomposure.\n\n\"That is very true,\" she said courteously; \"but at the same time I\nventure to hope that since you know nothing ill of me as yet, you\nwill receive me into a sort of conditional friendship, with the\nunderstanding that I remain your friend until I am guilty of some\nconduct that ought to justify you in deserting me. I am sure you cannot\nobject to that; and now, if we are to be friends, we should know each\nother's names. I am Mrs. Evan Roberts, and I live at No. 76 East\nFifty-fifth Street. I shall be glad to see you at my house whenever\nyou would like to call on me. Now, will one of you be kind enough to\nintroduce himself and the class? Perhaps you will introduce me to your\nfriends?\"\n\nShe looked directly at the ringleader.\n\n\"Certainly, certainly, mum!\" he replied briskly. \"This is Mr. Carrot\nPumpkins, at your service, mum\u2014this fellow on my left, I mean; rather\na queer name I daresay you think. It all came of his being fond of\nsitting astride a pumpkin when he was a little shaver, and of his hair\nbeing exactly the colour of carrots, as you can see for yourself. And\nthis fellow on my right is Mr. Champion Chawer; so-called because he\ncan make the biggest run on tobacco of any of the set, taking him day\nin and day out. That fellow at your elbow is 'Slippery Jim.' We don't\ncall him 'Mister,' because he doesn't stay long enough in one place to\nhave it tacked on to him. He is such a slippery scamp that an eel is\nnowhere, compared to him.\"\n\nDuring this rapid flow of words the listeners, who evidently admired\ntheir leader became so convulsed with laughter as to lose all vestige\nof respectability, and Mr. Durant's disturbed face appeared in view.\n\n\"Boys, this is perfectly disgraceful!\" he said, speaking in sharp and\nhighly-excited tones\u2014\"Perfectly disgraceful! I don't know why you wish\nto come here to disturb us in this way Sabbath after Sabbath! But we\nhave really endured enough. There is a policeman at the foot of the\nstairs, and he can easily call others to his help; so now, if you wish\nto remain here, you must behave yourselves.\"\n\nDuring the deliverance of this sentence, some of the boys gave mimic\ngroans, one of them whistled, and others kept up a running comment.\n\n\"A policeman! Oh good! That's little Duffer, I know! We've seen him\nbefore! Wouldn't mind giving him a chase to-day, just for exercise, you\nknow, mum.\"\n\n\"I say, boys, let's cut and run, the whole band of us. We can jump\nthese seats at one bound, and take the little woman along on our\nshoulders for a ride! Shall we do it?\" This from the leader, who in\ntime came to be known as \"Nimble Dick.\"\n\n\"Bah! No!\" replied a third. \"Let's stick it out and see what she's got\nto say; she's a new party. Besides, we can't give her the slip in that\nway; we're friends of hers, you know.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts,\" said the distressed Mr. Durant, in a not very good\nundertone, \"I think you will have to give it up. They are worse than\nusual this morning. We have endured much from them, and I must say that\nmy patience is exhausted. Will you not take the seat at the other end\nof the room?\"\n\n\"Not unless they wish me to.\"\n\nThe people who had known Flossy Shipley well would have detected a\ncurious little quiver in her voice, which meant that she was making\na strong effort at self-control; but a stranger would hardly have\nobserved it.\n\n\"Do you wish me to go away, young gentlemen?\"\n\nThe scamps thus appealed to looked at one another again, as if in doubt\nwhat to say. This again was new ground to them. Policemen they were\naccustomed to. At last Nimble Dick made answer:\u2014\n\n\"No, I'm bound if we do; it comes the nearest to looking like a lark\nof anything that we have had in a long time.\u2014I say, parson, go off\nabout your business and let us alone. We was having a good time getting\nacquainted till you come and spoiled it. We'll be as sober as deacons\nat a prayer-meetin'. And look out how you insult this young woman;\nshe's a friend of ours, and we're bound to protect her. No asking of\nher to change her seat; she's going to sit right here to the end of the\nchapter.\"\n\nMr. Durant looked his willingness to summon the police at once; but\nMrs. Roberts's voice, evenly poised now, took up the story:\u2014\n\n\"Thank you; then I will stay. And since it is getting late, suppose we\nlose no more time. There was something about which I wanted to tell\nyou. But a few evenings ago I attended a gathering where I saw some\nvery singular things. A gentleman in the party was tied with a strong\nrope, hands and feet, as firmly as two men could tie him\u2014people who\nknew how to tie knots, and they did their best; yet while we stood\nlooking at him, he shook his hand free and held it out to them. How do\nyou think it was done?\"\n\n\"Sham knots,\" said one.\n\n\"No, for my husband was one of the gentlemen who tied him, and he\nassured me that he tied the rope as firmly as he could. Besides, more\nwonderful things than that were done. I tied my own handkerchief into\nat least a dozen very hard knots, and gave it to him, and I saw him\nput it in a glass of water, then seize it and shake it out, and the\nknots were gone. I saw him take two clean glasses, and pour water from\na pitcher into one, and it seemed to turn instantly to wine. Then he\npoured that glass of wine into the other empty glass, and immediately\nit turned back to water, or seemed to. Dozens of other strange things\nhe did. I should really like to tell you about them all. I will, at\nsome other time; but just now I think you would like to know how he did\nthem?\"\n\n\"How he did them!\" \"As if you could tell!\" \"Can you tell?\" \"Pitch in,\nmum; I'd like to hear that part myself!\" These were some of the eager\nanswers.\n\nHad the little teacher, under the embarrassments of the occasion, taken\nleave of her senses? Actually she was bending forward, opened Bible\nturned face downward on her knee, engaged in describing, in somewhat\nminute detail, the explanations of certain sleight-of-hand performances\nwhich she had recently seen! What idea of the office of teacher, and\nthe solemnity of the truths to be taught, had she?\n\nThe boys were listening, their heads bent forward all around her. What\nof that? They would have listened equally well to a graphically-told\nstory of a Fourth Avenue riot, and been equally benefited, you think?\nThey did not know just when the speaker slipped from the events of last\nweek to the events of more than three thousand years ago. Indeed, so\nignorant were they of all past history, that they were not even aware\nthat she went back into the past; for aught they knew, she might have\ngone on Wednesday of last week to see the man who could untie knots\nby magic, and on Thursday to see the men who could drop canes on the\nground that would appear to turn into wriggling serpents. But there was\none statement that proved too much for their credulity.\n\n\"You could not imagine what occurred next,\" said the bright-faced\nteacher. \"The cane or rod that the first man had dropped actually\nopened its mouth and swallowed the other rods that seemed to be\nserpents, and was left there alone in its triumph!\"\n\n\"Oh, bosh!\" said Nimble Dick, contempt expressed in the very curve\nof his nose. \"That's too steep; I don't believe a word of it! These\nfellows can do lots of queer things\u2014I've seen 'em perform myself; but\nthey never made a live thing yet; I've heard folks that know say so.\"\n\n\"Precisely what I wanted to reach,\" said Mrs. Roberts with animation.\n\"You are right; they never did; and you have discovered just the\ndifference between them and the one man of whom I have been telling\nyou. He worked by the power of God; he distinctly stated that he did,\nand that God really turned his rod into a serpent, and allowed it to\nswallow the imitations of life, and then turned it back again into a\nrod, to show that nothing was beyond his power.\"\n\n\"Did you see the thing done?\" questioned a young sceptic, running his\ntongue into his cheek in a skilful way, and distorting his whole face\nwith a disagreeable leer. He began to suspect that he was being cheated\ninto listening to a Bible story.\n\nMrs. Roberts was prompt with her answer:\u2014\n\n\"Oh no, I did not; neither did I see the great fire that you had in\nthis city about a year ago. At that time I was a thousand miles away;\nand it so happens that I have never talked with any person who did see\nit; yet I know there was a great fire, and many buildings were burned\nand lives lost. It has been proved to me.\"\n\n\"Oh, well,\" said sceptic number two, while number one retired into\nsilence to speculate over this answer, \"fires are common enough things;\nanybody can know that they happen; but it ain't such a common affair\nto see a stick turn into a serpent and swallow up other serpents. I've\nseen them fellows make things that looked like snakes myself. I could\nmost swear to it that I'd seen them wriggle; but they never did no\nswallowing.\"\n\n\"That is, they did not give unmistakable signs that they were alive.\nBut do you think it too strange a thing for God to do? Surely he can\nmake life. How is it that you are here, breathing, talking, thinking,\nif there is no power anywhere to make life?\"\n\n\"Oh, I came from a tadpole,\" said the boastful young scientist, putting\nhis thumbs under his arms, and affecting an air of great wisdom. \"I\nknow all about that; I was there, and see the things wriggle.\"\n\nEvolution staring her in the face in a corner class in a mission\nschool\u2014a class that had been gathered from the slums! Mrs. Roberts did\nnot know that these are the very places in which to find it in all its\ncoarseness. Yet she made haste to meet the boy on his own ground.\n\n\"Very well, if you choose to take that view of it. Was not the tadpole\nalive? Where did the life come from? You insist that the story I\nhave been telling you is untrue because you know that none of these\nsleight-of-hand performers have ever or can ever make actual life\u2014that\nit is an impossible thing for human beings to do. Yet when I tell you\nthat God did it, you refuse the statement. How are you going to account\nfor life? If in its very lowest forms it cannot be made by men who have\ngiven all their time to the study of the marvellous, how is it that it\nis everywhere about us, unless I am correct, and there is a Power that\ncan produce life?\"\n\nNot a boy among them had heard the term \"evolution,\" knew anything\nabout \"the survival of the fittest.\" They were entirely ignorant\nof \"protoplasm\" or \"bioplasm;\" yet not one of them but had caught\nthe meaning of some of these terms, as they had been translated for\nthem into the vernacular of the city slums; not one in the class but\nperceived that their champion arguer had been met on his own ground and\nvanquished.\n\nNot with an outburst of horror; he had not even been informed that he\nwas irreverent. Nimble Dick delighted in making each teacher tell him\nthis. He had merely been replied to in the calmest of argumentative\ntones, and called upon to account for the facts in his own statements,\nand had been unable to do so.\n\nThe crowd broke into a derisive laugh, and were noisy, it is true,\nand brought troubled frowns to the face of their superintendent, and\nmade the flush on Alfred Reid's face deepen; yet if both these anxious\nwatchers had known it, it was worthy of note that the laugh had been at\nthe expense of one of their number, and not at their teacher.\n\n\"Well, go on,\" interposed the youngest and quietest of the group. \"Tell\nus some more about your old fellow with his serpents. Did they stay\nswallowed, and what did it all amount to, anyhow?\"\n\nThus challenged, Mrs. Roberts gave her whole heart to the business of\ngiving, in as dramatic a manner as she could, the closing scenes in the\nact performed in Egypt so long ago, carefully avoiding any reference\nto time, and mentioning no names, using only modern terms, and an\nexceedingly simple conversational form of language. She was, however,\npresently interrupted with a question:\u2014\n\n\"When did all this happen, and why don't somebody do something like it\nnowdays?\"\n\nIgnoring the first question, Mrs. Roberts adroitly gave herself to the\nsecond.\n\n\"Why don't you find your pleasure in tumbling around on the floor,\nplaying with a bright-coloured marble or two, as you did when a child?\nThe world was in its childhood when God taught the people in this way.\nHe has given them just as wonderful lessons since, but lessons more\nsuited to men and women who have learned to think and reason. We don't\nlike to be always treated as children.\"\n\nWhether they really dimly understood the meaning or not is possibly\ndoubtful, yet it appealed to their sense of dignity in so indirect a\nway, that they did not themselves realize what inclined them to quiet\nfor a moment, while she finished her sentence earnestly.\n\nIn the midst of the quiet, the closing-bell rang, and the seven young\nscamps seemed at once to take into their hearts seven other spirits\nworse than themselves, and behaved abominably during the closing\nexercises, and tumbled out of the door over each other in the wildest\nfashion the moment the signal was given, halting only to say, in the\nperson of their leader,\u2014\n\n\"You be on hand next Sunday; we like your yarns first-rate.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts, with glowing cheeks and eyes behind which there were\nunshed tears, made her way to the desk where Mr. Durant was standing,\nand spoke quickly:\u2014\n\n\"There is a difference between others who have tried it and myself, Mr.\nDurant. The sentence in Mr. Reid's account that gave me courage was,\n'Every one has failed, so far; people are unwilling to take the class a\nsecond time.' I have failed, but I want to try again.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\"ANYTHING UNCOMMON ABOUT ME?\"\n\nTHOUGH they rushed out with even more noise than usual, every\nboy of them knew that the noise was to cover a certain sense of\nshame-facedness, because they had actually been beguiled into listening\nquietly for a few minutes to earnest words.\n\nDirectly they had reached the privacy of the street they became quieter.\n\n\"I say, boys,\" said Nimble Dick, \"is that an awful green one, or a new\nkind?\"\n\n\"New, I should say,\" replied one of the younger boys; \"she ain't like\nanything that's been in that room since we got acquainted with it. I\ndon't know her style myself.\"\n\n\"What do you take it she meant by that stuff about being friends, and\ntelling us where she lived, and all that?\"\n\n\"Dunno what she meant; but she ain't 'green,' you may bet your head on\nthat. I'll tell you what I think, boys: I b'lieve she knows what she is\nabout, every time.\"\n\nWhat this sage conclusion amounted to, one not acquainted with the\ndialect of the street might have been at a loss to understand; but the\nrest of the party received it in grave silence and nods of the head, as\nthough it were a thought that needed careful investigation. In common\nparlance, Jerry Tompkins had expressed the opinion that Mrs. Roberts\nhad some point to gain in being so uncommonly polite and attentive to\nthem, and they were curious to know what the motive could possibly be.\n\nThey considered the important question in silence until they reached\nthe next corner; then Nimble Dick, tossing back his head as one who had\nthrown off an abstruse problem, and would have none of it, said:\u2014\n\n\"Well, what next? We've got through with that fun for to-day. What are\nyou going to do, boys? Say we go around to Poke's, and see what is\ngoing on there?\"\n\nTo this proposition there was eager agreement from all the party save\none; he maintained a somewhat moody silence.\n\n\"What say, Dirk?\" the leader asked, addressing him. \"Are you ready for\nPoke's?\"\n\n\"No; I don't think I'll go around just now.\"\n\n\"What then? If you've got something better on hand, why don't you let a\nfellow know? We're not dying for Poke's place.\"\n\n\"I haven't got a thing on hand; only I don't care about going there.\"\n\n\"Where, then?\"\n\n\"Nowhere.\"\n\n\"Nowhere! Mean place. Too cold weather to stop in the streets. There\n'll be a good fire at Poke's. You come along; don't go to getting the\nsulks; it ain't becoming, just after you've been to Sunday school.\"\n\nBut the young fellow persisted in gloomily refusing to join them, and\npresently they began to tease, in what they meant to be a good-natured\nway.\n\n\"Dirk's struck,\" said one. \"That yellow-haired party has got him by\nthe throat; I saw her looking at him most uncommon sharp, when she was\ntelling that biggest story of hers about the serpent that swallowed.\nDirk he thinks he's been swallowed by one of 'em; he feels it choking\nin his throat.\"\n\n\"No,\" said another, \"that ain't it; Dirk's a-going to get pious. That's\nhis last dodge; I've seen the spell coming on for some time. Didn't\nyou see him pick up that there Bible and lay it on the seat the other\nSunday, after Jerry's elbow knocked it off by mistake? I've been scared\nabout Dirk ever since; and now he won't go to Poke's! It's a bad sign.\nI say, Dirk, maybe there's going to be a prayer-meeting down your way,\nand you wouldn't mind letting us come?\"\n\nThey expected him to laugh, but his face grow blacker than before, and\nat last he said, in very significant tones:\u2014\n\n\"You better hold up there, Scrawley, if you don't want to try the depth\nof that gutter.\"\n\n\"Leave him be,\" said Nimble Dick quickly; \"he's going into one of his\ntantrums. When he begins like that, there's no end to the fighting\nthat's in him; and I don't want a row now,\u2014it's too early in the day;\nbesides, I know something that's better fun. You fellows come along\nwith me, and let him go.\"\n\nAll this was said in a sort of undertone as Dirk strode on ahead; and\nwhen, at another corner, he dashed down it, leaving them all, there was\nno call after him. He was free to go where he would, and for reasons\nthat he himself could not have explained, he chose that it should be\nhome\u2014that is, the place which he called home. It might not meet your\nideas of what a spot so named should be.\n\nThe road to it led through one of the meanest portions of the city.\nEach foot of the way the houses seemed to grow more squalid-looking and\nthe streets filthier. The particular alley down which he dived at last\nwas narrower and blacker than any yet passed, and the cellar door which\nhe pushed open let him into the meanest-looking house in the row\u2014a\nlong, low, dark room.\n\nIn one corner there was the remnant of a stove, braced up by bricks\nand stones; but no fire was burning therein, though the day was cold.\nFurniture there was none, unless the usual rickety table and two broken\nchairs could be called by that name. A door was ajar that led into an\ninner cellar, and a glimpse of piles of offensive-looking rags, that\nwere called \"bed-clothes\" by the family, might have given you an idea\nof what their home life was, as hardly any other phase of it can. The\nrags were not all in the farther cellar, however; a gay, patch-work\nquilt, or at least one that had once been gay, but from which bits of\nblack cotton now oozed in every direction, seemed to have curled itself\nin a heap against the one window. However, it moved soon after Dirk\nopened the door, and showed itself to be more than a quilt. Inside was\na young girl, the quilt wrapped around her closely, drawn up about her\nface and head, as if she would hide all but her eyes within, and try to\nget rid of shivering.\n\n\"You home?\" she said, her tones expressing surprise, but at the same\ntime indifference. \"What is it for?\"\n\n\"Because I wanted to come. Hasn't a fellow a right to come home if he\nwants to?\"\n\n\"Of course; and it's such a lovely home, and you are so fond of it, no\none need wonder at your coming in the middle of the day.\"\n\nThe sentence was sarcastic enough, but the tones were hardly so; they\nexpressed too much indifference even for sarcasm.\n\nDirk surveyed her thoughtfully; he seemed to have no answer ready.\nIn fact, his face wore almost a startled air, and really the thought\nwhich presented itself for consideration was startling. Something about\nthe face of the girl, done up so grotesquely in her ragged quilt,\nsuggested the lady who had been his teacher at the mission! Could one\nfind a sharper contrast than existed between these two? Yet Dirk, as he\nlooked, could not get away from it.\n\n\"What are you staring at?\" the girl asked presently, growing uneasy\nover the fixedness of his gaze. \"Do you see anything uncommon about me?\"\n\n\"Where's mother?\" he asked, dropping his eyes and turning from her.\n\n\"In there, asleep. You needn't talk quite so loud; it won't hurt her to\nget a bit of rest. She sat up till morning, poking at your old coat.\"\n\nDirk looked down at it thoughtfully. There had been an attempt to make\nit decent, although the setting of the patches showed an unpractised\nhand, and they were of a strikingly different colour from the coat\nitself.\n\n\"You might have done it for her, then, in the daytime,\" he said\nbriefly; and added, \"Where's father?\"\n\nThe girl shrugged her shoulders.\n\n\"How should I know? Where he is most of the time. You know more about\nit than I do, or ought to; you live on the street.\"\n\nHe gave her an answer which seemed to surprise her:\u2014\n\n\"I say, Mart, what is the use in being so horrid cross all the time?\"\n\n\"You are so good-natured,\" she said, \"and everything is so nice and\npleasant around me, it is a wonder that I should ever be cross!\"\n\n\"That's all lost, Mart, for I never said I was good-natured, nor\nthought I was; and if I don't know just how hateful things are, I\nshould like to know who does! But, after all, what good does it do to\nsnarl? Why couldn't you and me say a good-natured word once in a while,\njust for a change?\"\n\n\"Try it,\" she said; \"I wish you would! I'm so tired of things as they\nnow are that most any change would be fine. But I'll risk your doing\nmuch in that line; it isn't in you.\"\n\nWhat was there in this cross girl to remind any one in his senses\nof Mrs. Evan Roberts? Yet, even as she spoke that last ungracious\nsentence, she turned a little, so that a slant beam of sunshine, one\nof the few that ever found their way into this dreary room, laid a\nstreak of light just across her hair, yellowing it until it was almost\nthe shade that he had noted in the lady at the mission; and he thought\nof her again, and wondered curiously whether, if Mart were dressed in\nthe shining black dress, and fur wraps, and feather-decked bonnet that\nthe lady had worn, she would really resemble her. How would Mart look\ndressed up, he wondered\u2014even decently dressed, as the girls were whom\nhe met on the streets? He had never seen her in anything much more\nbecoming than the ragged quilt. He was studying her in a way that Mart\ndid not in the least understand. She broke the spell suddenly again:\u2014\n\n\"Have you had any dinner?\"\n\n\"Dinner? Why, no! Of course not. Where would I find that sort of thing?\nI looked all up and down the streets, and smelled plenty of it, but not\na bite did I get.\"\n\n\"Where have you been?\"\n\n\"Oh, around in several places; not much of anywhere.\"\n\n\"I know where you've been,\u2014\" a severe light coming into her eyes;\n\"you've been down to the South End, and if I was you, I'd be ashamed of\nmyself! I know how you fellows go on down there. Sallie Calkins goes,\nand she told me all about it. She said that she was ashamed to live\nin the same street with any of you, and that none of the folks in the\nmission knew what to do with you, and the next thing you knew you would\nall be marched off to the lock-up.\"\n\n\"Let them try it,\" muttered Dirk, his face growing darker; \"we'd make\nthat street too hot to hold them in short order if they played at any\nsuch game as that, and I guess they know it.\"\n\n\"Well, anyhow, I wouldn't be meaner and lower down than I had to be,\nDirk Colson! It is bad enough as it is\u2014a drunkard for a father, and we\nnothing more than beggars! But I'd behave myself half-way decent when I\nwent among folks that wanted to be good to me, or else I'd stay away.\"\n\n\"Look here! You keep your preaching for them that wants to hear it; I\ndon't. A fellow can't come home without having a row; if it isn't of\none kind, it's another. I wonder I ever come home at all.\"\n\nDirk was angry now, and his dark, thin face looked fierce with passion.\n\nHis sister kept the curiously composed tone and manner with which she\nhad said all her exasperating things.\n\n\"I wonder you do,\" she said. \"I suppose you get starved, and can't help\nit, now and then. There's some dinner I saved for you. If you want it,\neat it, and then take yourself to some place that suits you better.\"\n\nAs she spoke, she jerked open the door of a little cupboard near which\nshe stood, and brought therefrom a much-cracked plate, on which lay\na baked potato, with one end broken or bitten off, then carefully\nreplaced, as if the owner might have had a second thought as to its\ndisposal; a bit of corn-bread, somewhat burned, and half of a roasted\napple.\n\nMeagre as the fare was for a hungry boy, there was more variety than he\nhad expected, and something in the simple preparation touched him and\nquieted his anger.\n\n\"Where did this come from?\" he asked, taking in the unaccustomed morsel\nof apple with two eager bites. \"I tell you that is good!\"\n\n\"Sallie Calkins gave it to me last night. She got one give to her\nsomewhere.\"\n\nJust as the last bite was gone, it occurred to Dirk first to wonder,\nand then to be almost certain, that his sister, having shared the\napple, had saved her entire share for him. It was not the first time he\nhad known of such an effort on her part to supply him with food. Had he\nthought of it sooner, he would certainly have left a bit of the dainty\nfor her; but no thought of telling her so, for an instant crossed his\nmind.\n\nNeither had she, on her part, the slightest idea of describing to him\nwith what care and patience she and Sallie had roasted the choice\nmorsel before Sallie's fire, only last night\u2014Sallie's father being\nfortunately late in coming, and so giving them a chance; then she had\nborne hers home in a bit of paper, and carefully guarded it all day,\njust for this hour. Also, she might have told him that she bit the end\nfrom the potato before she remembered that there would be none left for\nhim, and then fitted it on again as best she could, and went without.\nShe would not have told him for worlds. Why? She could not have\nexplained why. Something within her shrank from letting him know, not\nthat she sacrificed for him, but that she cared enough for him to want\nto do it!\n\nPotato and corn-bread were gone, to the last crumb; it seemed to Dirk\nthat there had been only enough of them to show him how hungry he was.\n\n\"I suppose there isn't anything more?\" he said wistfully, with the\nrising inflection, indeed, but not as one who had any idea of receiving\nan affirmative answer.\n\n\"I should think there wasn't!\"\u2014defiance in the tone. \"There's a piece\nof bread that I kept for mother's supper, and I mean she shall have it.\"\n\n\"Well, don't bite me! I'm perfectly willing that she shall. Isn't there\nanything for a fire?\"\n\n\"Only some chips that I'm saving till mother has her nap out.\"\n\n\"You better go to bed yourself, then; it's awful cold here.\"\n\n\"I ain't going to stir from this corner so long as this streak of light\nlasts. It isn't so very often I see it that I can afford to lose it.\"\n\nHer brother turned and looked at her. She had gathered the folds of the\nragged quilt about her again, and was crouching at the low window, and\nthe very last gleam that the sunshine would vouchsafe them came and\nglimmered in her hair.\n\nThere it was again\u2014that mysterious, haunting resemblance! What would\nMart think if he told her of it? Probably that he was trying to poke\nfun at her. At least, he should not experiment. Yet he could not help\nwondering again how Mart would look if she were dressed like other\npeople.\n\n\"I say, Mart,\" he began suddenly, breaking the stillness, \"let's you\nand I get out of this, where it is warmer. Come and take a walk down on\nthe avenue; the sun will shine yet for half an hour and it is real warm\nand bright.\"\n\n\"In this quilt?\" she asked significantly, looking down at it.\n\nThe boy's face darkened.\n\n\"Hasn't your shawl got out of pawn yet?\"\n\n\"How should it?\"\n\nHe flung himself angrily out of the broken chair, picked up his ragged\ncap, and strode angrily and noisily across the room, out at the door,\nstumbling up the steps, like one half-blind with disgust or rage, and\nwent on swift feet down the street out of sight. And Mart, poor Mart,\nleft thus to solitude, let the last beam of the sun go without watching\nand buried her face in the ragged quilt and cried.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\"I DON'T BLAME THEM.\"\n\nIT was not a \"pet\" name. Poor Mart Colson would not have known what\nto do with a pet name. Her life had not taught her how to use such\nphrases. How she came to be named Martha, she did not know; but a\nhollow-eyed, sad-voiced woman could have told her of a country home,\nlong ago, where there were daffodils blowing in the early spring,\nalmost under the snow; where, later, the earth was turned into sky,\nor the stars came down and gleamed all over her father's fields, so\nplentiful were the dandelions; and the breath of the clover came in at\nall the open windows; and the cows\u2014her father's cows\u2014coming home from\npasture, and the tinkle of their bells, were sights and sounds familiar\nto her ear. She sat there one summer evening, in the back door,\nwatching the glory and the peace, and studying, between times, her\nSabbath lessons. Often and often the words came back to her in future\nyears.\n\n   \"Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus.\"\n\nThat was one of the verses. Was it a dim memory of the words, and a\nsort of blind reaching out after their fulfilment, that led her to name\nher poor little two-days-old baby Martha?\n\nThe old home had vanished; the sweet-scented meadows, the tinkling\nbells, the peace and the plenty, were as utterly things of the past as\nthough they had not been. Mother and father and one brother were gone,\nlying in grass-grown, neglected graves; and she\u2014why the two-days-old\nbaby's father was drunk, and had been for three weeks! A hard,\nhateful-sounding word\u2014coarse, almost. Why don't I say intoxicated? Oh,\nbecause I can't! I've no desire to find smooth-sounding words with\nwhich to cover the sin of that baby's father.\n\nBut the mother named her Martha. She never told her why, if, indeed,\nshe herself fully knew; it was not a family name. Gradually, after the\nfashion of the times, she sought to shorten the name; and because they\nhad not sweet, short words as \"Pet,\" and \"Dear,\" and \"Sweet,\"\u2014all such\nbelong to happy homes\u2014they grew to calling her Mart. And now, even she\nherself hardly realized that she had ever owned to any other call.\n\nPoor Mart! I find myself wanting to use the adjective over and over\nagain when I speak of her. Such a desolate, loveless life! Always a\ndrunken father\u2014she had never known any other; always a sharp-toned,\nweary-eyed, disheartened mother, who shut her tenderness for the child\nwithin herself, as one who could not afford to show it. Then Dirk, the\none brother, going astray almost as soon as he was born. What wonder,\nfrom such a home?\n\nYet Mart wondered and felt bitter over it. Why could not Dirk be\nlike some others of whom she knew\u2014like Sallie Calkins's brother, for\ninstance, who worked day and night, and brought home often and often\nan apple, or a herring, or sometimes even a picture paper for Sallie?\nMart was sharp-tongued; all her life had taught her to be so. She spoke\nsharp words out of the bitterness of her heart at Dirk; and of late\nrarely anything but sharp words; yet\u2014and this was Mart's secret, hidden\naway as if it were something of which to be ashamed\u2014she loved Dirk,\nloved him fiercely, with all the pent-up wealth of her young heart; and\noften, because she loved him, she was harsh and bitter towards him,\nthough she did not herself understand why this should be.\n\nAs for Dirk, he walked rapidly but for a few blocks; his dinner had\nbeen too insufficient to give him strength, after the first aimless\nanger had subsided. Then came the question what to do with himself.\nWhy hadn't he gone with the fellows? More than likely some of them\nhad contrived a way to get a dinner. Why had he persisted in sullenly\nleaving them all and going home?\n\nHe had not the least idea why he had been impelled to go home. Now that\nhe was fairly away from home again, he had no idea what to do with\nhimself. A place where he could warm his feet and his hands, where\nhe could get a bite to eat, possibly,\u2014this last would be an immense\nattraction, but was not a necessity, and he did not expect it,\u2014but\nwarmth, at least, he felt that he must have. Where would he find it?\nWhat place had been provided for such as he?\n\nHe ought by this time to have been earning his own living\u2014to have had a\ncorner which he could call home, earned by himself, where some of the\ndecencies of life were gathered. Of course he ought; but the painful\nfact to meet just now was that he had not done his duty. He had gone\nastray, not so far but that there were plenty of chances to go further,\ngreater deeps to which he might yet reach, but far enough to all but\nbreak any watchful mother's heart\u2014only that his mother's heart was\nbroken before he was born.\n\nThe simple question waiting to be solved was this: Having done as\npoorly for himself as under the circumstances he well could, what\nwas Dirk Colson to do next? He had no idea; neither, apparently, had\nmultitudes of Christian people engaged in praying that the Father's\nwill might be done on earth even as it was in heaven.\n\nThe young man walked six blocks down the respectable avenue, lined\nwith pleasant homes, where the people went to church, and read their\nBibles, and had family prayers, and kept holy the Sabbath day. Not a\ndoor among them all opened and held out a winning signal to arrest his\nheedless feet. Not so Satan. Is he ever caught idling at his post? Just\naround the corner from the respectable avenue (and around the corner\nDirk presently turned, still uncertain what to do, where to find the\nwarmth he craved), then the winning invitations for such as he began\nto present themselves. Saloons, and saloons, and saloons! How many of\nthem were there, far outnumbering the churches! Pleasant they looked,\ntoo\u2014opening doors, ever and anon, revealing brightness and warmth\nwithin. They would like to see him inside. Of this Dirk was sure.\n\nNot that he had money, but he had something that in such places often\nserved him well\u2014a decided and dangerous talent for imitating any and\nevery peculiarity of voice or manner that had chanced to come under his\nnotice. He could make the fellows in these saloons roar with laughter.\nIf he did particularly well, they were willing to order for him a glass\nof beer, or a fairly good cigar; in any case, he had a chance to get\nwarm. This was actually Dirk's only present source of income! Yet he\nshrank from it; he could not have told you why, but on this particular\nSabbath, he was averse to earning his coveted warmth in this way. He\nwalked resolutely by two or three places where he had reason to think\nhe might be welcomed, wondering vaguely whether there wasn't something\nelse a fellow could do to keep himself from freezing.\n\nOddly enough there seemed to be something about the glimmer of sunshine\nas he saw it in Mart's hair that kept him from halting before any of\nthe places open to him. What if she had come out with him to take a\nwalk? He could not have taken her into one of them! Then, poor fellow,\nhe set himself to wondering where the place was, open and warmed, to\nwhich he could take Mart. There were places, several of them, in the\nlarge city; but Dirk knew nothing about them, and he was acquainted\nwith the saloons. He thought of another thing: he had been invited to\ncall at a house in East Fifty-fifth Street. Suppose he should walk up\nthere this very afternoon and ring the bell, and say that he had come\nto call! What would happen then? Whereupon he laughed aloud, the fancy\nseemed to him so utterly preposterous. The idea of \"his\" making a call!\nThe utter improbability of his ever seeing the inside of one of the\nEast Fifty-fifth Street mansions!\n\nStill remained that hopeless question, What should he do with himself?\nThe sun was quite gone now, and a cold wind was blowing up freshly from\nthe north. It blew directly through Dick's threadbare garments. He\nturned suddenly and slipped inside one of the worst of the many saloons\nwhich literally line this end of the street. He had refused to go with\nthe boys to Poke's, an hour or two before, and this was several grades\nbelow Poke's in decency. But it was growing dark, and he was cold.\n\nThere was one young man who saw him dart down those cellar stairs,\nwho stood still and looked at him, his face darkening the while with\ndiscouragement. This, then, was all the afternoon's Sabbath school\nhad accomplished for him. To be sure he was not disappointed at the\nresult\u2014it was no more than he had expected; but it was so discouraging\nto be an eye-witness to the degradation to which these young wretches\nhad fallen. Of course the young man was Alfred Reid; and he went home,\nand was dreary over all sorts of failures in Christian work, mission\nSabbath schools especially, and their own more especially than any\nother.\n\n\nAmong the early shoppers on Monday morning came Mrs. Evan Roberts.\nShopping, however, seemed to be a small part of her business. She came\ndirectly to young Reid's counter, and addressed him very much as though\nshe had ceased talking with him but a moment before:\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Reid, what can you and I do for those boys during the week?\"\n\nBut Alfred was at his gloomiest.\n\n\"I don't see that we can do anything for them at any time,\" he said\ndismally. \"What is an hour on Sunday, set against all the rest of the\ntime? They go from the schoolroom to the rum saloons, and dawdle away\nthe rest of the day. Yesterday I met that young Colson going into one\nof the worst saloons in Dey Street. They are not to blame, either.\"\nThis last in a fiercer tone, after a slight pause. \"I don't blame them:\nthey have nowhere else to go and nothing to do; and it is cold on the\nstreets, and warm in the saloons.\"\n\nIf he expected the small lady, who was regarding him so steadily, to\ntake the other side of this question, he was disappointed.\n\nShe spoke quietly enough, but with the earnestness of conviction.\n\n\"Those are startling facts. I do not see how any one could be surprised\nthat the results are as they are; and the practical question forces\nitself upon us,\u2014What are we to do under the circumstances? Mr. Reid,\nyou have had your eyes open in regard to this subject for some time;\nwhat have you thought out?\"\n\nNow was Mr. Alfred Reid embarrassed. It was true that his eyes had\nbeen long open to the subject; it was true that he had given it a\ngreat deal of what he had called thought. But with those alert eyes\nfixed on his face, her whole manner indicating intense earnestness,\nhe suddenly realized that all his thought had been to no purpose, had\naccomplished nothing, unless it had served to give him a feeling almost\nof irritation against the boys, and their teachers who made failures,\nand the people who folded their hands and let things go to ruin. Here\nconfronted him one whose hands were not folded, though they rested\nquietly enough on the counter before him. He began to feel that there\nmight be latent power in them.\n\n\"I have nothing to say,\" and he said it at last with flushed face and\nembarrassed voice; \"I have thought out nothing. The whole thing seems\nhopeless to me with my utter lack of resources. My sister had schemes,\nmany of them, and they seemed to me good ones, even then; they seem\nbetter now, only I cannot carry them out.\"\n\nShe caught at the name.\n\n\"Your sister? Esther Reid? Good! Let us carry them out, you and I,\nand as many more as we can get to help us. She is at work yet, don't\nyou see? What is that prophecy about her\u2014that voice which the prophet\nheard, you know?\n\n   \"'And I heard a voice saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which\ndie in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may\nrest from their labours; and their works do follow them.'\"\n\nHow strangely the words sounded, repeated in her low, clear voice,\namid the hum of business on every side! Alfred Reid felt singularly\nmoved. He had been a highly strung, imaginative child. He had been his\nsister Esther's almost constant companion during those last months in\nwhich she was slowly fading out of sight. While Julia held steadily to\nher mother's side, and learned to do many helpful things, he had been\nstationed chief nurse in Esther's room, to see that she lacked for no\ntender care during the hours when others must be away from her. And\nthose hours she had tenderly improved.\n\nHe remembered to this day just how she looked, with a pink flush\nall over her cheeks, and a bright light in her eyes, as she talked\nto him of the things that she and Dr. Douglas had meant to do for\nboys\u2014neglected, homeless, friendless boys. Oh, the plans they had\ncarefully thought out, to reach after these forsaken ones! He\nremembered that his own cheeks had grown hot while he listened, and the\nblood had seemed to race like fire through his veins when she said:\n\n\"God wants 'me' for something else, Alfred: but you will do my work\nwhen you get to be a man; you will find helpers, and carry it on as I\nwanted to do.\"\n\nHe had made no audible answer, but he had told himself sturdily again\nand again that he certainly would. Yet here he was, barely of age, and\nalmost soured by disappointments. Certain well-meant attempts having\nproved failures, and having not found the helpers whom he had eagerly\nexpected, the magnitude of the work impressed itself upon him more\nremorselessly each hour.\n\nYet now he seemed to feel again the thrill in his veins, and he felt\nalmost under the power of his sister's eye, while those words were in\nhis ears:\n\n   \"'They may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.'\"\n\nMight it possibly be that this was one of the \"helpers\" of whom Esther\nused to talk\u2014sent by God himself to take up her planned work, and\nfollow it out? Yet she was so utterly unlike his memory of Esther! She\nhad seemed to him a self-reliant, strong toned woman\u2014Mrs. Roberts was\nso small and frail-looking, and so fashionably dressed; and how those\nboys had acted with her only yesterday! What could she possibly do?\n\nCustomers came just then, to change the current of his thoughts. They\nwanted round collars, and deep collars, and fichus, and edges, and\na hundred little irritating things. Young Reid, usually so gracious\nand patient, had much ado to keep from showing his annoyance over the\nsmallness of all their wishes.\n\nMeantime Mrs. Roberts, who had taken a seat, entered apparently with\nabsorption into the relative merits of round or pointed collars with\na young lady acquaintance. She patiently measured to discover whether\nthe turned-down corner of one was a quarter of an inch deeper than\nthe other or not; she gave, with due deliberation, her opinion as\nto whether the points were more becoming to the young lady's style\nof beauty than the rolling fronts; and even went to the trouble of\nunfastening her furs to show still another style that she liked better\nthan either, sending the disgusted Alfred to an entirely different box\nin search of a like pattern.\n\nAs he went, his lip curled visibly. What a fool he had been to allow\nhimself to get momentarily excited over this doll! How preposterous in\nhim to mention his dead sister's name to her! She had already forgotten\nthe entire matter, and was deep in the merits of collars! His first\nestimate of her had been the correct one. Her mind was just about as\ndeep, he believed, as the tiny collar she was measuring. What a farce\nit was to talk to her about helping those poor fellers! She probably\nthought a few soup-tickets, and a chance for a good Christmas dinner at\nsome of the public charity halls, was the way to reach and reform them.\n\"He\" shouldn't help her; she mustn't expect it. Doubtless she did not.\nProbably she had by this time forgotten that she had suggested it.\n\nWhy need she trouble herself about a few collars for a young lady in\nher own circle to wear with her morning dresses? That was just it, he\ntold himself. It was because she \"was\" in her circle, and because the\ncollars were to be honoured by being worn by such as she, that they\nbecame important, and the boys and their desperate needs sunk into\ninsignificance. Well, he wished they would both go and leave him to\nhimself\u2014give him a chance to rally from his momentary excitement, of\nwhich he was now ashamed.\n\nAt last the collars were bought, but not until the counter was strown\nwith different sorts; and the lady, with many bright little nothings\nfor last words, moved off to another part of the store, and Mrs.\nRoberts whirled on her seat until her eyes were in full view again, and\nsaid:\u2014\n\n\"What were some of her plans, Mr. Reid?\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\"A CHRISTIAN HOME.\"\n\n\"I DON'T suppose you can go into details just now,\" she added, noting\nyoung Reid's hesitation and embarrassment; \"but I was wondering if you\ncould give me some general idea of what she wanted to do, or thought\ncould be done.\"\n\n\"There were a great many things that she wanted to do, and I believe\nshe thought they could be done; but I don't think she knew the world\nvery well,\" said this aged cynic. \"She judged everybody from the\nstandpoint of her own unselfishness. I remember she was not in sympathy\nwith soup-houses and dinner-tickets, and great public charities of\nthat sort. Or, I don't know that I should say she was not in sympathy\nwith them. I mean, rather, that those would not have been her ways of\nworking.\n\n\"She was thinking of young people, and to give them a dinner now and\nthen she would not have considered a very great step toward elevating\nthem morally and spiritually. Mrs. Roberts, it was just that which she\nwanted to do\u2014lift them up. She thought there could be invented ways of\nreaching them, so that they would want helping, want teaching\u2014'crave'\nit, I mean; and she thought that Christian homes of wealth and culture\ncould be opened to them, and they gradually drawn in\u2014made to feel on a\nlevel with others in the social scale.\n\n\"In short, she believed that instead of people going down to them\nin a condescending spirit, they could be drawn up to the level of\nothers, so that they would realize their manhood, and be led to make\nearnest efforts to take their rightful places in the world. I know I am\nbungling dreadfully; I don't know how to tell you her plans, only that\nthey were splendid. But I am afraid the world will have to be made over\nbefore they can be carried out.\"\n\n\"Perhaps so. Christ is at work making the world over, you know.\" The\nlady before him, whose eyes never for an instant moved from his face,\nspoke with exceeding sweetness and gravity. Neither by word nor glance\ndid she give him to understand that she thought his schemes wild.\n\"But I find that, after all, I want details. I catch a glimpse of the\ngrandness of your sister's meaning. What were some of the steps\u2014the\nlittle steps, such as you and I could take, toward accomplishing it?\nYet even while I ask the question, I see something of what the answer\nmust be.\u2014\n\n   \"'Christian homes opening to receive them!'\n\n\"That is a new thought to me, and in the plural number I do not see how\njust now it could be done; but 'one' Christian home\u2014I ought to be able\nto manage that. Mr. Reid, that is the way to begin it, you may depend.\nIndeed, I suppose you have tried it. The city is full of boys, and many\nof them are away down. Since we cannot reach all of them this week, we\nmust try to reach seven; and, failing in that, suppose we say one. For\nwhich one have you been working? Just who, at this moment, specially\ninterests you? I hope it is one of my boys, because, you see, they\nappeal to me just now as no others can. Which is it, Mr. Reid? And what\nhave you tried to do for him? And to what extent have you succeeded?\"\n\nThere were never any hotter cheeks than young Reid's just at that\nmoment. This was the most extraordinary person with whom he had ever\ntalked. It was impossible to generalize with her. Not that he wanted\nto generalize; on the contrary, he at once saw the possibilities\ngrowing out of individual effort, and caught at the idea of undertaking\nsomething.\n\nBut the question was, Why had he not thought of it before? One person\nto reach after and try for! Surely he might have attempted that,\ninstead of trying to carry the hundreds that he stumbled against,\nand so accomplish nothing for any of them. It was humiliating the\nconfession that he had to make:\u2014\n\n\"Indeed, Mrs. Roberts, I have not one in mind. If you asked me what\none hundred I was most anxious about, I might possibly be able to\nanswer; but I see that there has been no individuality about it\u2014unless,\nperhaps, the half-dozen or more boys who compose that class are taking\na little stronger hold on me than any of the others. But even for them\nI have tried to do nothing\u2014unless two or three attempts to secure a\npermanent teacher for them, which have ended in failure, may count for\neffort. I don't blame myself as much as I might, because, now that you\nsuggest personal work to me, I realize that there is nothing for one\nsituated as I am to do. I have no Christian home at my command.\"\n\n\"Ah, but we are to come down to very small numbers, you know\u2014to\nfractions, if need be. You have a piece of Christian home at command, I\ntrust?\"\n\nBut he looked at her inquiringly, and she explained:\u2014\n\n\"Why, you have the privacy of your own room, which is, of course, your\ncorner of home just now, and it is a Christian corner. Is there not\nroom in it sometimes for two?\"\n\nHe smiled faintly over that.\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, there is one thing with which you evidently are not\nfamiliar, and that is, the corner which a poor clerk in the city\nhas to call home. Mine is the fourth story back of a fourth-rate\nboarding-house, where the thermometer drops often below the\nfreezing-point; and this place I share with as uncongenial a fellow as\never breathed. What would you think of labelling such accommodations\n'home'? And what can I do in it for others?\"\n\n\"Not much, perhaps,\" smiling, \"unless for the uncongenial fellow. I\nshould think there might be a chance in this direction.\"\n\n\"Ah, but,\" he said eagerly, \"he is a Christian. My sympathies do not\nneed to be drawn out in that direction.\"\n\nThe smile was a peculiar one now, but the tone was very quiet in which\nthe little lady said that some time, when they had leisure to talk, she\nshould like to ask him whether his experience with Christians had been\nso exceptionally bright that he thought there was no work to do in that\ndirection.\n\n\"But just now,\" she added earnestly, \"I want to know, since you are\nshut away from home effort, for which of these boys you are praying\nespecially, and which of them do you carry about on your heart, with\nthe hope of a chance meeting, an unexpected opportunity to speak\na word, or do a kindness, or look a kindness, that shall give you\npossible future influence? Don't you have to work in those ways?\n\n\"Two people never equally interest me at the same moment. I find I\nmust be intensely individual, not to the exclusion of others, but in\npraying. For instance, yesterday I prayed and this morning I prayed\nfor my entire class; but there was one all the time who was uppermost.\nI find myself questioning, What can I do for them all, but especially\nfor him? Do you know, I fancy that most Christians feel the same;\nindividual effort is so necessary that I have thought perhaps the Holy\nSpirit turns our thoughts most directly toward one person at a time, so\nthat we may concentrate our efforts. Do you think this is so?\"\n\nYoung Reid did not answer so promptly; he had no answer ready that\nsuited him. His strongest feeling just then was one of self-reproach,\nmingled with humiliation. How had he looked down on this fair and\nbeautiful little woman\u2014her very beauty being, he had fancied, an\nelement against her when it came to actual effort! How had he allowed\nhimself to sneer over her attempt at teaching that class of boys! How\nactually irritable he had been over it! How almost angrily he had\nquestioned why it was that a teacher was not found for them fitted to\ntheir needs, when he had prayed about it so much, determined not to\nbelieve that the prayer had been answered and the teacher found! Yet\nhere she was, the one whose efforts he had despised, talking already\nabout individual prayer for them; while he, who had done a great amount\nof fretting for them, had not once presented them as individuals to\nChrist, and asked a definite blessing for each!\n\nHis answer, when it came, was low and full of feeling:\u2014\n\n\"I have concentrated my desires in praying for the coming of such a\nteacher as might get hold of them, and I begin to think that I have an\nanswer to my prayers.\"\n\nBut she was absolutely proof against compliments. She wasted not a\nmoment's thought on that, but said,\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Reid, who are they? I tried to get their names yesterday, but soon\nsaw that they were not in the mood to help me. I don't think I have one\ncorrect name. Can you give me a list?\"\n\nNo, he could not\u2014which admission did not lessen the glow on his cheeks.\nPossibly he could mention the names of two, and guess at a third, but\nof the others he knew nothing.\n\n\"To whom, then, can I go? Mr. Durant would know, of course. Where shall\nI find him?\"\n\nSo much Alfred knew. Mr. Durant was to be found at the Fourth National\nBank; but as for giving information in regard to that class, he was\nsure it was beyond him. He (Alfred) had asked only last Sabbath who the\nboy was who behaved so wretchedly, and also who was the fellow next\nhim, but Mr. Durant had not known.\n\n\"Well, then,\" Mrs. Roberts said, nothing daunted, not even a shadow\nappearing on her quiet face, she must just study it out with his help.\n\n\"There is immediate work for you,\" she said, \"for of course I want to\nknow their names. Who are the two? This Dirk Colson whom you mentioned,\nwhich was he?\"\n\nAlfred described him as well as his bewilderment would allow, and was\ninterrupted,\u2014\n\n\"Oh, the small dark one. I know; he interested me. Where does he live?\"\n\nBut to this question no clear answer could be given. Down in one of the\nalleys towards the South End; but just which alley, or how far down\nit, Alfred did not know. He knew it was a disreputable alley, and that\nthere wasn't a decent home anywhere about it, and that was all.\n\n\"What does Dirk do for a living?\"\n\nThis question was quite as difficult to answer as the other. Nothing,\nyoung Reid believed\u2014at least nothing regular. Odd jobs he doubtless\npicked up occasionally, but as for regular employment, Alfred was sure\nhe had none.\n\n\"Is that his fault\u2014I mean, doesn't he desire work, and make an effort\nto secure it?\"\n\nBut this young Reid could not even pretend to answer. Work, for such as\nhe, was scarce; boys with better habits, brought up to be industrious,\nwere at this present time out of work. Possibly the fellow was not to\nblame for being an idler.\n\nMany other questions were asked, and many attempts were made at\nanswers. But when the shoppers began to press in to such a degree\nthat their conversation was broken, and the energetic seeker after\ninformation felt herself obliged to retire, one thing had been\naccomplished\u2014Alfred Reid had been made to realize that he knew much\nless than he had supposed he did about the seven boys who had seemed\nto be filling his thoughts for several weeks. And also, in his eager,\npassionate desire that everything should be done for all of them, he\nhad overlooked the chances for doing here and there some little thing\nfor one of them.\n\n\"Good-morning,\" Mrs. Roberts had said, turning cordially to a\nfashionably dressed lady. \"Collars? Oh yes, this is the counter for\nthem to be found in endless variety. They have a new pattern that\nI have been admiring.\u2014Mr. Reid, please show Mrs. Emory the curtain\ncollars with embroidered points.\"\n\nWhich thing Mr. Reid proceeded to do with alacrity and respect, no\ntrace of the earlier contemptuous feeling shadowing his face. Here was\na woman who knew stylish collars when she saw them, and who also knew\nseveral other things, and had taught him a lesson this very morning\nthat he would not be likely to forget.\n\n\nBut Mrs. Roberts, as she made her way out from the fast-filling store,\nfelt that she had not made great progress toward getting acquainted\nwith her class.\n\nStill, it must be admitted that if young Reid had gotten some new\nideas, so also had she.\n\n\"A Christian home!\"\n\nShe found herself repeating the phrase, lingering over it, wondering if\nher new home, in every sense of the word, merited that title.\n\n\"It cannot simply mean a home where Christ is honoured,\" she said to\nherself. \"I surely have that. It rather means a home where everything\npertaining to it serves his cause. The very furniture and the light and\nthe brightness are made to do duty for him, else they have no place\nthere; and I, labelled Christian, have no right to them. Can I bear the\ntest, I wonder?\n\n\"What is there that I can do with all the beauties of my parlours?\nThere are things that I have not done. I can see some to do; but how\ncan my Christian home serve these boys? When I get them into it, of\ncourse it will be work for me; but how to get them in! Who are they?\nI wonder what spring I can touch to give me even this meagre bit of\ninformation.\"\n\nAs if in answer to her mental query, she came just then full upon\nPoliceman Duffer. She recognized him instantly; a man who, though by\nno means small, was so far from having the majestic presence of most\npolicemen that, in the estimation of the boys, he merited the name\n\"Little Duffer.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts carried to her new work one talent not always to be found\namong even efficient workers\u2014the ability to remember both names and\nfaces. Especially did a name seem, without any effort on her part, to\nfasten itself upon her memory; and not only that, but it brought with\nit a train of memories enabling her to locate when and where, and under\nwhat circumstances, she heard the name, and therefore generally whom\nthe name fitted.\n\nRecognizing the features of the policeman whom she had seen at the\ndoor of the South End Mission, she connected him at once with the term\n\"Little Duffer\" heard in her class, and addressed him.\n\n\"Mr. Duffer, I believe.\"\n\nIt is safe to say that Policeman Duffer, entirely accustomed as he was\nto hearing himself addressed officially a hundred or a thousand times\nin a day, was yet utterly unaccustomed to the prefix of \"Mr.,\" and\nstarted in surprise.\n\n\"Are you not the gentleman whom I saw at the South End last Sabbath?\"\n\nThe policeman admitted that he probably was. He was detailed for duty\nthere. Then she plunged at once into business. Did he know the boys who\nattended that school? Some of them he did, better than he wanted to;\nand a precious set they were, in Policeman Duffer's opinion.\n\n\"Might as well go out to the Zoo,\" he declared, \"and get a set of\nanimals and try to tame 'em.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts was not in the mood to argue; she was bent on information.\nDid he know, she wondered, the boys who composed her class? She had\njust taken the class, and was so unfortunate as not to be acquainted\nwith their names. One was Dirk Colson; and another, she had heard, was\nHaskell\u2014Timothy Haskell, perhaps, though of that she was not certain.\nDid that give Mr. Duffer any clue?\n\n\"Plenty of clue,\" he said, shaking his head. \"So you've taken that\nclass, ma'am,\" a curious mixture of amazement and credulity in his\nvoice. \"What possessed you, if I may be so bold? They're a hard lot,\nma'am. I know them, as I said, altogether too well. I've had enough\nto do with some of them, and I expect more work from them. They gain\nin wickedness in a most surprising way. Their names? Yes; there's\nScrawley, and Sneaking Billy, and Black Dirk\u2014him you know.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts interrupted him. She begged his pardon, but could those\nreally be the boys' names? Were they not rather some unfortunate street\nnames that had been fastened upon them?\n\nThus brought back to his senses, Policeman Duffer laughed, and admitted\nthat he supposed Sneaking Billy was properly named Sneyder. But he was\nonce caught in a mean trick, from which he tried in so many ways to\nsquirm out, that the boys had themselves named him Sneaking Billy, and\nthe name had stuck.\n\nAs for \"Scrawley,\" his real name was Stephen Crowley. How it became\ncontracted into \"Scrawley,\" the boys could tell better than anybody\nelse. They always called him that, and so did other people; and\nPoliceman Duffer was inclined to doubt whether the fellow remembered\nthat he had any other name.\n\n\"You can see yourself, ma'am,\" he added, \"how Black Dirk came by his\nname. He is the blackest white fellow as ever I saw, and I've seen\ncrowds of 'em.\"\n\nThe streets were full, and Policeman Duffer was being interviewed by\na great many people in regard to all the questions that policemen are\nexpected to answer. But by dint of patient waiting, one foot poised on\na curbstone to keep it out of the mud, making hurried little memoranda\nwhile Policeman Duffer was engaged, and earnestly plying her questions\nwhen he was at leisure, Mrs. Roberts learned the names of her seven\nboys, and where several of them lived.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\"SATAN, HE HAS 'EM ALL THE WEEK.\"\n\n\"THAT Black Dirk is a case,\" said Policeman Duffer, turning hastily\naway from an unusually stupid man who could not be made to understand\nwhere a certain street was. \"He is the worst of the lot, I believe.\nJerry Tompkins is slyer, and Dick Bolton is quicker than lightning at\nmischief\u2014Nimble Dick they call him\u2014he's a sort of ringleader\u2014what he\ndoes the rest are apt to do; but to my thinking Dirk is ahead of them\nall for evil. The rest are kind of jolly; fun seems to be about half\nthat they are after: but Dirk, he's sullen; you never know how to take\nhim, nor when he may burst out on you. He's dangerous. I am always\nlooking out for something awful that he will do.\"\n\nPoor Dirk! Yet he was the boy to whom Mrs. Roberts's desires had gone\nout the most anxiously. It was over his image that she had lingered\nthat morning in her closet. Policeman Duller would have been greatly\nastonished had he known there was that in his words which gave her\ncourage.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" she said to herself with quickening breath, \"oh, perhaps the\npoor boy is the most in danger of them all, and the Saviour, knowing\nit, sees ways in which I may reach him, and so presses his poor, sullen\nface on my memory.\"\n\n\"What does he do for a living?\" she hastened to ask.\n\n\"Well, to the best of my knowledge, he loafs for a living. That's all\nI've ever known him guilty of doing. He's got a drunken father\u2014one\nof the meanest kind of drunkards. If he would go and stay drunk all\nthe time, and leave them alone, they might manage; but he has spells\nof getting half over it, and coming home and tearing around like all\npossessed. Then they have times! I've been in there when it took all\nmy strength to manage him. If he would get killed in one of his rows,\nI'd have some hope of the rest of 'em; but he won't. That kind of folks\nnever do get killed; it's the decent ones.\n\n\"A fellow was carried by here just now with a broken leg\u2014a nice, decent\nboy, works hard to help his sister. He's the sort now that gets his leg\nbroken, and gets laid up for the rest of the winter. How do you account\nfor that? He lives pretty near Black Dirk's. Of course, he's got a\ndrunken father\u2014they all have in that row; but if I was going in for\nbenevolence, I'd twice as soon do something for young Calkins as for\nany of your set; they're a bad lot. They aren't worth lifting a finger\nfor. Now, that's a fact.\"\n\n\"And yet,\" said Mrs. Roberts, her voice tremulous with a feeling that\njust then surged over her, \"how can I help remembering that if the Lord\nJesus had said that of us, and stayed up there in his glory, we should\nhave been utterly without help or hope to-day?\"\n\nVery much astonished was Policeman Duffer. Ladies on all sorts of\nerrands had consulted him; he had been presented with many tracts in\nhis day; but rarely had a clear-voiced, earnest-eyed woman quietly\nconfronted him with that name, as if it contained an unanswerable\nargument. However, he was not embarrassed; it took a great deal to\nembarrass him.\n\n\"I don't take much stock in him,\" he said, with a lofty toss of his\nhead, and a careless tone, as though the question were one easy to\ndispose of. \"I don't believe in him myself.\"\n\n\"Do you know him?\"\n\nEarnest eyes were raised to his face, fixed steadily on his face, while\nthe questioner waited quietly for an answer.\n\nPoliceman Duffer was embarrassed now; he was not used to being\nconfronted with such matter of fact questions.\n\n\"Do I know him?\" with a confused little laugh. \"Why, I reckon not,\nma'am; according to the popular notion, he is too faraway for folks to\nbe well acquainted.\"\n\n\"Then popular notion is mistaken; for I know him very well indeed,\nand he is by no means faraway. But what I meant was, Have you studied\nhis life and character, and do you fully understand the arguments for\nbelieving in him?\"\n\n\"I study the folks who profess to belong to him, ma'am, and I find that\nabout as much as I can stand.\"\n\nThis was said with a saucy little laugh, and with the air of a man who\nbelieved he had produced an unanswerable argument. The steady eyes did\nnot move from his face, and the voice which answered him had lost none\nof its quietness.\n\n\"But do you think it is wise to spend your time in studying the\nimperfect copies, without looking at the perfect pattern? You would not\ntake the child's careless imitation as a proof that his teacher could\nnot write. I thank you for helping me to-day. I wish you would help my\nboys when you can; and I wish you would study my Master instead of me.\nGood-morning.\"\n\n\"That's a queer party!\" did Policeman Duffer exclaim, as he watched her\nfar down the street. \"I would like to know who she is; she ain't like\nthe rest somehow. 'Her' boys! Much she knows about 'em. Her bears, she\nmight as well call 'em. What does she think she can do with that set in\nher little hour\u2014Sunday afternoon? Satan, he has 'em all the week, and\nlooks after 'em sharp; and then these Christians come in of a Sunday,\nand mince a little, and think they can upset his doings by it. Shows\ntheir sense! But she's a curious little party\u2014sharp, without knowing\nit. I'll keep an eye on her, and save her from scrapes if I can.\"\n\n\nMeantime, all unconscious of his good intentions, Mrs. Roberts pursued\nher way down the thronged avenue, and presently turned from it\nentirely, and moved down one of the side streets with resolute steps. A\ndaring thought had come into her mind; she would try to find the alley\nwhere one at least of her boys lived. It couldn't be worse than some\nof the alleys at home which she had penetrated. She felt certain that\nby following the policeman's directions she could find the place, and\npossibly be able to minister to the boy with a broken limb.\n\nAt all events, it was necessary for her to know how her boys lived, and\nwhere they lived, if she were to reach them. But there are alleys and\nalleys, as the venturesome lady found to her cost. This one into which\nshe was plunging excelled anything in that line which she had ever\nimagined\u2014swarming with life in its most repulsive forms, and growing\nevery moment more terrifying to a well-dressed woman braving its\nhorrors alone.\n\nShe stopped in dismay at last, admitting, reluctantly, that the wisest\nthing she could do was to turn round and go home. Possibly the wisest,\nbut not, it appeared, practicable. Where was home? Down which of the\ncross-streets had she come? Did this one where she stood lead to it? Or\ndid it lead, as it appeared to her, in an entirely opposite direction?\nShe looked up and down and across for some familiar landmark, and\nlooked in vain, growing momentarily more frightened at the attention\nshe was attracting by standing irresolutely there.\n\nFlossy Shipley, in her girlhood days, had been almost a hopeless\ncoward; and Flossy Roberts felt, by the throbbing of her heart, that\nshe had not yet outgrown her girlish character. Suddenly she gave a\nlittle exclamation of delight, and with a spring forward, laid her hand\non the arm of one whom she recognized\u2014none other than \"Nimble Dick\"\nhimself.\n\n\"I am so glad,\" she said to the amazed young scamp, a little quiver of\nsatisfaction in her voice, \"so glad to have met you. Do you know you\nare a friend in need? I have lost my way. I cannot decide which way to\nturn to reach Fifth Avenue again. Will you help me please?\"\n\nWhen had Nimble Dick lost an opportunity for fun at the expense of\nanother? Here was a chance for a jolly lark! A woman scared to death\nbecause she was in Green Alley. What would she think of Burk Street?\nSuppose he should send her there\u2014only three blocks away, through a\nlovelier part of the city than she had seen yet? He would venture.\nIf the crowds here showed her too much attention, it would be worth\nsomething to see how she got through Burk Street.\n\n\"Oh yes,\" he said briskly. \"I can show you the way in a twinkling. You\njust go down this alley till you come to the big house at the corner\nthat has the windows all knocked out of it; then you turn and go down\nthat street till you get to the third crossing; then turn again to the\nright, and you'll be on Fifth Avenue before you know it.\"\n\nHad Mrs. Roberts been looking at his face, she would have seen the\nwicked light dancing in his eyes, over the thought that he had thus\nmapped out for her a walk through the very worst portion of the\ncity\u2014every step, of course, lending her further and further away from\nFifth Avenue.\n\nThe sights that she might see, and the mishaps which might occur to\nher\u2014a handsomely-dressed woman, alone\u2014before she made her way through\nthe horrors of these streets, were too much even for Nimble Dick's\nimagination, who knew the locality well. He did not try to calculate\nthem, but gave himself up to the enjoyment of imagining how long it\nwould be before she would reach home if she followed his directions.\n\n\"She won't see no swallowing serpents that I knows of,\" he reflected\ngleefully; \"but I'll miss my reckoning if she don't see what will scare\nher worse than they would.\"\n\nBut Mrs. Roberts was already \"scared.\" She felt her heart beating hard,\nand knew that her cheeks were aglow with excitement and vague terror.\nShe was not used to walking such streets alone. She looked ahead at the\nway pointed out, and could see that the swarming life grew more turbid\nas far as her eye could reach. She felt that she could not brave its\nterrors unprotected. Suddenly, she turned from looking down the alley,\nand her hand\u2014a small, delicately-gloved hand\u2014was again laid on Nimble\nDick's arm. He could feel it trembling.\n\n\"I suppose I shall seem very foolish to you,\" she said gently, \"but I\nam afraid to walk down there alone. Would you mind going along with\nme to protect me? I am only a woman, you know, and we are apt to be\ncowards.\"\n\nA very curious sensation came over Nimble Dick. He looked up the\nalley, and down the alley, and was glad that not one of the \"fellows\"\nwas in sight. What was to become of his lark? But there was that hand\nstill resting on his arm, with a persuasive touch in it; and he had\nnever been appealed to for protection before\u2014never in his life! Was it\npossible that with him she would not be afraid? He turned and looked at\nher searchingly, a scowl on his face: no, she was not \"shamming;\" her\neyes were full of anxious fear, and also of petition.\n\nNimble Dick was amazed at himself, and ashamed of himself. He did not\nknow how to account for his sudden change of intention, but he suddenly\nturned in an opposite direction from the one which he had pointed out,\nand said, \"Come on, then; I'll show you a shorter way,\" and strode\nforward.\n\n\"Oh, thank you!\" she said, relief and gratitude in her voice. \"I\nshall be so much obliged to you for coming with me; I am quite\nbewildered\u2014cannot decide which way I came, or any about it. I was\ntrying to find the house of a young man who has been hurt. A policeman\ntold me that he lived in this street, and that his name is Calkins. I\nwas think about him, and walked on without noticing, until I did not\nknow where I was. Do you know anything of the man?\"\n\n\"You are too far down for him,\" said Nimble Dick. \"He's quality, and\nlives at the upper end of the alley. That's his house away up there.\nHe's hurt bad, they say; but I s'pose he'll get well. He's got a\nquality doctor, a regular swell, who never come into these alleys\nbefore. He was going along when they brought Mark home, and he followed\nthem in, and he come there again last night and this morning. I dunno\nwhat for, I'm sure. Mark Calkins can't pay no doctor's bills, if he\ndoes work regular, and pay more rent than the rest of folks.\"\n\nThere was a curious mixture of complaint and satisfaction in Dick's\ntone. Mrs. Roberts gathered from it that the young man, Mark Calkins,\nin whom the policeman had tried to interest her, was superior to the\nrest of the miserable people in the alley, and that they resented it\nas an insult to themselves; but that, at the same time, the reflected\nhonour of having a \"swell\" doctor come into their midst, attendant upon\none who really belonged to their class, was very great.\n\nCould she possibly get a little influence over them by following up the\ninjured young man, and giving what help was needful? She had hardly\nmeant to call, though trying to find the house. Her method of reasoning\nhad been something like this:\n\n\"The policeman said he lived about two blocks from my poor Dirk's home.\nSince there has so recently been an accident, there may be something to\nmark the house\u2014a doctor passing in, possibly, or something that shall\ngive me a landmark, and I can have a glimpse of the outside of one of\nthe homes.\"\n\nIn her ignorance of life at that end of the social scale, she did not\nknow that a doctor passing in and out, even after an accident, was a\nsufficiently rare occurrence to make much more of a mark than she was\nlooking for. So absorbed had she been over the boys belonging to her\nclass, that she had rather ignored the policeman's manliest hint to add\nthis one to her list. Yet, was it possibly an answer to her prayer, an\nentering wedge of some sort, that might open the way to influence?\n\n\"Who is the doctor?\" she asked her guide, as the possibility of making\nan entrance through him occurred to her. \"Do you know his name?\"\n\nOh yes, Dick knew his name, and where he lived, and even the names of\nsome of his \"swell\" patients;\u2014trust him for gaining information about\nanything that came into the alley.\n\n\"It's Dr. Everett,\" he said promptly, that curious touch of\npride appearing again in his voice. \"He lives away up among the\nTwenty-thirders, and he goes to Cady's house to doctor, and lots of\nthem places where the big ones lives. I dunno how he happens to come\nhere.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts had never heard the name, but she reflected that she was\na new-comer, and wisely desisted from taking from the glory of Dr.\nEverett by admitting that he was not known to all the world. He might\nbe a good doctor and a philanthropic one; his visits to this region\nlooked like it.\n\n\"Do you know where any of the boys in our class live?\"\n\nThis was her next carefully-worded question. She did not know whether\nto hint that she had heard of one who lived in that alley, or whether\nthis would be considered an insult.\n\n\"Well,\" said Nimble Dick, the sly twinkle coming back to his eyes that\nthe strangeness of the situation had driven away for a moment, \"I\ncalculate that I know where I live myself; sometimes I do, anyhow.\"\n\n\"To be sure!\" she said, laughing at his humour. \"I should have said\nwhere any of the others live. Of course you will give me your address,\nafter being so kind as to see me to\u2014some point with which I am\nacquainted.\"\n\nShe had nearly said a place of safety, but checked herself in time. I\nam not sure, though, that Dick would have noticed it; he was lost in\nastonishment over the idea of giving anybody his address.\n\n\"This is Dirk Colson's house,\" he said suddenly; \"and he is one of our\nfellows.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts uttered an exclamation. The house was one of the most\nforlorn in the row, seeming, if the miserable state of the buildings\nwould admit of comparison, to be more out of repair than the others.\nIt came home to her just then, with a sudden, desolating force, that\nhuman beings, such as she was trying to reach, and such as she hoped\nwould live in heaven for ever, called such earthly habitations as these\nhomes. What possible idea could they ever get of heaven by calling it\n\"home\"?\n\n\"Do they have the whole of that house?\"\n\nShe asked the question timidly, for the building looked very large, but\nshe was utterly unused to city tenement life.\n\n\"The 'whole' of that house?\" Dick fairly shouted the sentence, and\nbent himself double with laughter. \"Well, I should say not, mum! As\nnear as I can calculate, about thirty-five different families have\nthat pleasure. The whole of the house! Oh, my! What a greeny!\" And he\nlaughed again.\n\nMrs. Roberts exerted herself to laugh with him, albeit she was\nhorror-stricken. Thirty-five families in one house! How could they be\nother than awful in their ways of living?\n\n\"I know almost nothing about great cities,\" she said; \"my home was in a\nmuch smaller one.\"\n\nThis was the truth, but not the whole truth. Instinct kept this\nveritable lady, in the truest sense of the word, from explaining that\nshe knew nothing about the abject poor when she was speaking to one of\ntheir number. Just at this moment occurred a diversion: they had been\nmaking swift progress through the alley, Dick's long strides requiring\neffort on his companion's part to keep by his side; but just ahead the\nway was obstructed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\"WHAT A LITTLE SCHEMER IT IS!\"\n\nA RIOT! Not among men, which is sufficiently terrifying, nor yet among\nwomen, which is worse, but that most awful of all sights and sounds\nof sin\u2014a riot among the children. Swearing, spitting at one another,\ntearing one another's hair, scratching like tigers, growling like wild\nbeasts, throwing garbage at one another! This was the sort of crowd\nupon which Mrs. Roberts, in her black silk walking-dress, with her\nvelvet hat and seal furs, presently came. She grasped at Dick's arm in\nhorror, but a feeling that was more than terror was taking her strength\naway.\n\n\"Oh!\" she said, and the agony in her voice really suggested more than\nterror to the young fellow beside her. \"And they are little children!\nThey cannot be more than seven or eight! Oh, what can I do?\"\n\n\"You needn't be scared, mum!\" There was a little hint of something\nlike pity in Dick's voice. She clung to him so that he could not help\nfeeling himself her protector. \"It ain't an uncommon row at all. They\nmostly act like this: most likely one of 'em's found a bone and t'other\none wants it, and then they're gone in for a row, and all the young\nones crowd around and fight, on one side or t'other.\"\n\nDid this fearful explanation make the situation less terrible?\n\nThere was a lull, however, in the quarrel. The elegantly-dressed lady\nwas seen approaching\u2014an unusual sight in that alley\u2014and both parties\npaused to get a view,\u2014paused in their attentions to each other, that\nis; but at Mrs. Roberts they hooted and jeered, and one threw a handful\nof mud.\n\nThen did Nimble Dick rise to his position as protector.\n\n\"Shut up, there!\u2014Stand aside, Pluck, and let us pass!\u2014Look out there,\nyou Smirchy!\u2014Don't you throw that over here unless you want your head\nbroke for you when I get back!\"\n\nThis threat was thrown at a wretched little girl, who had dived her\nhand deeply into a box or cask of garbage, and brought it forth reeking\nwith rotten apples, pork fat, and any liquid horror which the name\nsuggests to you. She had her hand uplifted ready to throw, and was\nevidently intending to give the strange lady the benefit of what she\nhad prepared for one of the rioters.\n\nThe assured tone in which Nimble Dick spoke had its effect; the\ncombatants were all small, and he was large, and was evidently\nrecognized as a power. There were some defiant glances thrown at him,\nbut the motley crowd gave way, and allowed him to pass uninjured. Still\nhe kept an alert watch of them until quite out of reach, and was not\nsparing of his admonitions:\u2014\n\n\"Hold on there, Bill; I see that!\u2014Look out, Sally! You'll be sorry if\nyou throw anything, mind you that!\"\n\nAnd at last they were through the crowd\u2014not out of danger, it seemed;\nfor there, directly in their narrow path, was a drunken man, swaying\nfrom side to side in the way which is so terrible to one unused to such\nsights.\n\nDick felt the hold on his arm tighten, and was astonished at the sound\nof his own voice as he said soothingly,\u2014\n\n\"You needn't be scared at him, mum; that's only old Jock. He's as ugly\nas Old Nick himself, but he knows better than to be very ugly to me. I\ncan throw him in the gutter as easy as I could them young ones and he\nknows it. That's Dirk's father, that is! Ain't he a beauty?\"\n\nAnd again Mrs. Roberts uttered an exclamation of dismay, and part of\nher terror went out in sorry over the wrongs of a boy who had such a\nhome and such a father. What ought to be expected of him?\n\nThat interminable alley was conquered at last, and they emerged into\nrespectability on the broad avenue. Mrs. Roberts released her hold of\nher protector's arm, and his new character vanished on the instant.\n\n\"You're here, mum,\" he said, with a saucy twinkle in his eye and a\nsaucy leer on his face. \"Can you get yourself home from this spot? Or\nshall I borrow a wheel-barrow and take you there?\"\n\nMuch shaken with various emotions though she was, Mrs. Roberts forced\nherself to laugh. She would not frown on his fun when it was not\npositively sinful. He might not be aware that it was disrespectful; he\nmight never have heard the word.\n\n\"I know the way now, thank you; at least I think I do. Can you tell me\nwhether I take a green car or a yellow one to get to East Fifty-fifth\nStreet?\"\n\n\"You take a green one,\" he said quietly, his character of protector\nhaving returned to him with the question, which still showed her\ndependence on him.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she said again, with great heartiness. \"I shall never\nforget your care of me.\"\n\nHer hand was in her pocket, and a bright coin was between her fingers.\nShe longed to give it to Nimble Dick: he had saved her from so much\nthis morning; and he was so miserably clad, surely he needed help. A\nmoment's reflection, and she resolutely withdrew her hand. He should\nbe paid by a simple, hearty \"Thank you!\" this morning for kindness\nrendered. He might not consider it a current coin, but possibly it\nwould be his first lesson in the courtesies of life.\n\n\nLater in the day, when Mrs. Roberts was somewhat rested from her\nmorning's campaign, young Reid received a little note:\u2014\n\n   \"DEAR MR. REID,\u2014I know the names of all the boys, and enclose you a\nlist. It is possible that you may fall in with some one during the day\nwho can impart knowledge concerning them. Anyway, I thought you would\nlike to know their names. Keep me posted, please, as to your success\nin making their acquaintance. We are allies, remember.\u2014Yours for the\nMaster,\u2014\n\n                               \"MRS. E. L. ROBERTS.\"\n\nAlfred Reid twisted the delicate note-paper thoughtfully in his hand, a\nlook of perplexity on his face. He felt committed for labour; glad was\nhe, very, yet perplexed. He did not in the least know where to commence.\n\nWell, neither had this little lady; yet she had accomplished more in\nher one day's acquaintance than he after a lapse of weeks. Either she\nhad found opportunities, or had made them. There must be chances; he\nwould be sure to keep his eyes open after this.\n\n\nIn the handsome house on East Fifty-fifth Street where Mr. Roberts had\nsettled his bride, after a somewhat extended business tour, involving\nmonths of absence, matters were in train for a cosy evening in the\nlibrary. That was the name of the beautiful room where the husband\nand wife sat down together; but it was quite unlike the conventional\nlibrary. Books there were in lavish abundance; but there were also\npictures and flowers, and a singing bird or two, and an utter absence\nof that severe attention to business details which characterizes most\nrooms so named. Little prettinesses, which Mr. Roberts smilingly\nadmitted did not belong to a library, were yet established there, with\nan air of having come to stay.\n\n\"We will call it the library for convenience,\" the master of the house\nsaid, \"and then we will put into it whatever we please. It shall be a\nconservatory, and a sewing-room, and a lounging-room, and anything else\nthat you and I choose to make it.\"\n\nAnd Mrs. Roberts gleefully assented, and gave free rein to her pretty\ntastes. Flossy Shipley had been wont to be much trammelled with the\nways in which \"they\" did everything; but Mrs. Evan Roberts was learning\nthat, in unimportant matters at least, they had a right to be a law\nunto themselves. Perhaps it helped her, to be aware that a large class\nof people were all ready to quote \"Mrs. Even Roberts\" as an authority\non almost any point of taste.\n\nOn the evening in question, Mr. Roberts, in dressing and slippers,\nhad drawn his lounging-chair to the drop-light, preparatory to a\nhalf-hour of reading aloud. But it transpired that there was something\npreparatory to that, or at least that must take the precedence. Certain\nbusiness telegrams followed him home, which required the writing of two\nor three business letters.\n\n\"It will not take me long,\" he explained to his wife; \"and they are\nnot complicated affairs, so I give you leave to talk right on while I\ndespatch them.\"\n\nShe laughed at this hint about her fondness for talk, but presently\nmade use of the privilege.\n\n\"Evan, what sort of a young man do you consider Mr. Reid?\"\n\n\"Reid? Who? Oh, my clerk! The very best sort; a most estimable\nfellow\u2014one of a thousand. By the way, did you tell him how you became\ninterested in that sister of his?\"\n\n\"Not yet. I want to get better acquainted; but, Evan, do you know where\nhe boards?\"\n\n\"Hardly; on Third Avenue somewhere, I believe, or possibly Second. The\nstore register would show. Do you want his address?\"\n\n\"Oh, I know where it is; but I mean, what sort of a place is it?\"\n\nMr. Roberts slightly elevated his shapely shoulders.\n\n\"It is a boarding-house where many clerks board: that tells a doleful\nstory to the initiated, I suspect. Poor fare and dismal surroundings;\nstill, it is eminently respectable.\"\n\n\"Where does he spend his Sabbaths?\"\n\nThe rapidly-moving pen executed nearly two lines of handsome writing\nbefore Mr. Roberts was ready to respond to this question.\n\n\"Why, at church, principally, I fancy. He is very regular in his\nattendance at morning service, and the South End Mission absorbs his\nafternoons. I suppose he goes to church in the evening; but since we\nhave been giving our attention to that evening mission I have not seen\nhim.\"\n\n\"Ah, but, Evan, I mean the rest of the time\u2014those little bits of\nSabbath time that are sacred to home. The twilight, for instance, or\nfor an hour in the morning. Do you know what sort of a place he has for\nthose times?\"\n\nNearly three more lines were added to the paper, then Mr. Roberts\nraised his head.\n\n\"No, my dear, I don't. Now that you bring me face to face with the\nquestion, it seems a surprising thing to say that I should not know\nwhere a young man who has been for more than a year in our employment\nspends his choice bits of time, but I don't.\"\n\n\"Then I want to tell you something about it. He has a dingy, fourth\nstory back room\u2014small, I fancy, from the way in which he spoke of it,\nand not a speck of fire ever! In such weather as this, how can a young\nman read his Bible, or even pray, under such circumstances?\"\n\nMr. Roberts laid down his pen and sat erect, regarding his wife with a\nthoughtful, faraway air.\n\n\"Flossy,\" he said at last, \"it is an immense question! You open a\nperfect mine of anxiety and doubt. I have hovered around the edges for\nsome time, but have generally contrived to shut my eyes and refuse to\nlook into it, because I was afraid of what I might see, and because I\ndid not know what to do with my knowledge. I have not been the working\nmember of the firm very long, you know, and my special field, until\nlately, has been the other side of the ocean.\n\n\"But I have been at home long enough to know that there are several\nhundred young men in our employment who are away from their homes, and\nknowing, as I do, the price of board in respectable houses, and knowing\nthe salaries which the younger ones receive, it does not require a\ngreat deal of penetration to discover that they must have rather dreary\nhomes here, to put it mildly.\n\n\"The fact is, Flossy, I haven't wanted to look into this thing very\nclosely, because I do not see the remedy. Look at our house, for\ninstance, with its three hundred clerks, we'll say, who are away\nfrom their friends. Suppose one-half, or even one-third of them are\nmiserably situated, what can I do?\"\n\n\"Are they not sufficiently well paid to have the ordinary comforts of\nlife?\"\n\n\"Doubtful. The truth is, what you and I call the ordinary comforts\nof life takes a good deal of money. And in the city, rents are high,\nand the boarding-house keepers have hard struggles to make their\nexpenditure meet their income, and they carry economy to the very\nverge of meanness\u2014some of them fairly over the verge, I presume.\nAnd the result is cheap food badly cooked\u2014because well-cooked food\nmeans high-priced help\u2014and cold rooms and dreariness and discomfort\neverywhere.\n\n\"Now what can be done about it? Then our house is only one of hundreds,\nand in many of these hundreds they employ more help and give less wages\nthan we; in fact, I know that some of our clerks are looked upon with\nenvy by a great many young men. We never have any trouble in supplying\nvacancies. People swarm around us, because we have the reputation of\nbeing liberal. We are not liberal, however; sometimes I am inclined\nto think we are hardly fair; yet there is nothing I can do. I am a\njunior partner, with a great deal of the responsibility, and a third of\nthe voting power, and I can't get salaries raised. I've been working\nat that problem at intervals for a year, and have accomplished very\nlittle. Do you wonder that I keep my eyes as closely shut as I can?\"\n\nHis wife's face wore a thoughtful, not to say perplexed look. She\nseemed to have no answer ready; and, after waiting a moment for it, Mr.\nRoberts bent himself again to the task of getting his business letters\nanswered. Before he had written one more line, her face had cleared.\nShe interrupted him:\u2014\n\n\"Evan, when you talk about three hundred clerks, and multiply that by\nhundreds of houses and more hundreds of clerks, I cannot follow you at\nall. It is not that I am not impressed with the number\u2014I am\u2014it appalls\nme; but I don't want to be appalled, I want to be helpful.\n\n\"Perhaps just now there is nothing that I can do for the hundreds, so I\nwant to narrow my thoughts down to what, possibly, I can do. What, for\ninstance, can be done towards getting a good young man like Alfred Reid\ninto a place that will be just a little bit like a home, that will give\nhim a spot where he can study his Bible in comfort, and invite a friend\nwith whom he wants to pray, or whom he wants to reach and help in any\nway? That isn't a large problem. Can't it be solved?\"\n\nHer husband smiled.\n\n\"He is only one of thousands,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, I know; but he is one of thousands. Since we cannot reach\nthousands, shall we fail to reach one? Evan, I am only one of\nthousands, but how would you argue about me?\"\n\nMr. Roberts laughed again.\n\n\"You are one out of thousands and thousands!\" he said emphatically.\n\nA line more, and he signed the firm's name with an unusually fine\nflourish.\n\n\"There! I've accomplished one letter. What do you want to do, Flossy?\"\n\n\"I want Mr. Reid to have a room where he can invite one of my boys\noccasionally, and make him comfortable, and do for him what we cannot\nwith our rooms\u2014do for him what only a young man can do for a young man.\nI don't clearly know what I want further than that, but I see that one\nthing as a stepping-stone. Remember, I want all your thousands to have\njust as pleasant rooms, and I would like to help to bring it about, but\nI don't just now see the way.\"\n\n\"Do you see the way to this?\"\n\n\"No; but doesn't it seem as though we ought to be able to accomplish so\nmuch?\"\n\n\"It does, certainly. What is your desire, Flossy? Do you want him to\nhave a room in our house?\"\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"No, that would not further my plan for those boys. I would like to\nhave him here, and it would be a good thing for him\u2014at least I think it\nwould; but I can see things which he could accomplish for those young\nmen, set by himself in a different part of the city. Besides, Evan, I\nhave other plans for our rooms, entirely different ones, some of them I\nam afraid you will think are very strange.\"\n\nHe answered the doubt with a smile that said he had no fears of her or\nher plans.\n\n\"What a little schemer it is!\" he said, looking down on her with fond,\nproud eyes. \"Who would have imagined that she could plot, and plot so\nmysteriously? I used to think she was a very open-hearted woman.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\"WHAT WOULD YOU DO, DEAR?\"\n\nSHE joined in his laugh, albeit there was a tender look in her eyes.\nAfter a moment, she said gently:\u2014\n\n\"It is not scheming, Evan; I am only trying to set about the work for\nwhich I have been chosen. I'll tell you how it all came to me. I was\nreading\u2014my morning reading, you know\u2014after you had gone, taking little\ndips here and there, in the fashion that you think is so unsystematic;\nand I came upon this verse:\n\n   \"'He is a chosen vessel unto me'\u2014\n\n\"You know, about Paul? Well, it came to me with a sudden sense of\nawe and beauty\u2014the being chosen of God to do a great work. I stopped\nreading, to think it out. What a grand moment it must have been to Paul\nwhen he realized it! And I began to feel almost sorry that we lived in\nsuch different times, with no such opportunities.\n\n\"I stopped right in the midst of my folly to remember that I was as\ncertainly chosen of God as ever Paul was; for assuredly I did not\ncome to him of myself, nor begin to love him of myself, and therefore\nhe must indeed have chosen me. And I wondered whether probably each\nChristian had not a work to do as definite as Paul's; a work that would\nbe given to no other\u2014unless, indeed, the chosen one failed. I did not\nwant to fail, and I asked God not to let me.\n\n\"Then, of course, I set to wondering what my work, or my part of some\nother person's work, could be. It was the morning after you had told me\nthat about Esther Reid. You cannot think how that impressed me. I could\nnot get away from the wonderment as to how her work was prospering, and\nwhether there were chosen ones enough, or if there might possibly be a\nlittle place for me. I couldn't settle anything, and finally I decided\nto look at Paul's work a little while.\n\n\"Of course, it was not reasonable to suppose that the duties of the\ngreat apostle had anything in common with my bits of effort; still, I\nsaid, the directions given him may help me a little. And, Evan, what do\nyou think was the first thing I found! Why, this:\n\n   \"'The God of our fathers hath chosen thee, that thou shouldst know his\nwill.'\n\n\"Surely, so far, the things for which both he and I were chosen were\nparallel. I looked further:\n\n   \"'And see that Just One.'\n\n\"That was the very next. Was not I, too, chosen for that?\n\n   \"'Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty.'\n\n\"I said over the beautiful promise, to assure myself that it was true,\nand went on:\n\n   \"'And shouldest hear the voice of his mouth.'\n\n\"Was it not strange, Evan? Certainly I shall hear my King speak, often\nand often, when I get home. Only think of it! So far, Paul was not\nahead of me. I hurried to find another reference to Paul' work, and I\nfound this; let me read it to you.\"\n\nHer bit of dainty sewing was suddenly pushed to one side, and up from\nthe depths of the rose-lined work-basket came a small, plainly-bound\nBible, much marked. A rapid turning of the leaves, and the eager\ndisciple read:\n\n   \"'I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister\nand a witness, both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those\nthings in the which I will appear unto thee.'\n\n\"Now, Evan, you know the veriest child can be a witness if he knows\nanything about the facts; and I do certainly know some wonderful things\nabout Jesus to which I could witness. And, besides, isn't it reasonable\nto suppose that he will appear to me every day with things for me to\nwitness to? And then I read this\u2014Paul sent to the Gentiles, you know;\nbut for what?\n\n   \"'To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from\nthe power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins,\nand inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in\nme.'\n\n\"Evan, was there ever a more wonderful work to do in the world than\nthat? And yet I cannot tell you how it made feel to discover, or at\nleast to realize, that a great deal of it was my work. Of course I\nnaturally began to ask myself, What Gentile was there for me to reach?\nWhose eyes must I try to open?\n\n\"Do you know, that very afternoon I met Mr. Reid, and heard of those\nboys. They interested me from the first, and what he told me about his\nsister increased the interest. Then when I saw them!\u2014Evan, if ever boys\nwere in the power of Satan, they are; and to think that they may have\nan inheritance among them which are sanctified!\n\n\"This morning, when I saw where some of them lived, and imagined how\nthey lived, I felt stunned for a moment. It seemed to me impossible.\nWhat means could possibly be found of sufficient power to fit them for\nsuch an inheritance? And then directly came the closing words of the\ncommission:\n\n   \"Through 'faith that is in me.'\n\n\"Evan, God will save them, and I think he will let me help.\"\n\n\"Amen!\" said Mr. Roberts, and his voice was husky.\n\nWhen his wife was in one of her exalted moods, he always admired her\nwith a sort of reverence. He had been for years an earnest worker.\nHe carried business plans and business principles into the work; he\nstudied cause and effect, and calculated and expected certain results\nto follow certain causes, like a mathematical problem. Not that he by\nany means forgot the power of faith, or in any sense attempted to do\nhis work alone. He was a Christian who spent much time on his knees.\nBut little Flossy brought so much of the childlike, unquestioning\nspirit into her work, that sometimes he stood in awe, not knowing\nwhether he could follow her. It was not so much a mathematical problem\nto be worked out, as it was the faith that can remove mountains.\n\n   \"As a little child relies\n      On a strength beyond his own;\n    Knows he's neither strong nor wise,\n      Fears to stir a step alone.\"\n\nMr. Roberts often found himself quoting these lines when his wife gave\nhim glimpses of her heart; and at such times he had no hesitancy in\ndeciding that the steps she took were not alone, but the Lord was with\nher.\n\nThe postman's ring broke in on their quiet.\n\n\"I hope there are letters from home to-night,\" Mrs. Roberts said\u2014\"real\nlong ones. It is a week since we have heard.\"\n\n\"And I ought to hope that they would require a first reading in\nprivate,\" her husband answered, as he seized his neglected pen. \"It is\nthe only way in which these business letters will get answered. I find\nthe temptation to talk to you irresistible.\"\n\nOne letter! But that was of comfortable dimensions and weight.\n\n\"It is from Marion,\" Mrs. Roberts said, delight in her voice, after the\nfirst glance at the familiar writing. She was presently lost in its\nmany pages, and the business of letter-writing went on uninterruptedly\nfor some time.\n\nMrs. Marion Dennis had not forgotten her fondness for her pretty little\nFlossy, nor forgotten that\u2014softly innocent little creature though\nshe was\u2014she possessed a wisdom far above those who are credited with\nhaving keen insight; even a wisdom so subtle, and withal so tender,\nthat its source could only be Infinite Wisdom. So she, in company with\nmany others, was learning to turn to the friend so much younger than\nherself, as one in whom she could safely confide.\n\n   \"DEAR LITTLE FLOSSY\u2014\" so the letter ran\u2014\n\n   \"I suppose, though you should live to be a white-haired old lady,\nsitting with placid face and fluted cap and spectacles, in your\nhigh-backed arm-chair, in the most treasured corner, mayhap, of some\ngrand-daughter's choicest room, I, writing to you, would still commence\n'Dear little Flossy.' That I have to cover it from prying eyes by the\ndignified and respectable 'Mrs. Evan Roberts,' is almost a matter of\namusement to me.\n\n   \"I fancy I can see you making a journey through some of the Chautauqua\navenues, picking your way daintily towards Palestine, bending lovingly\nover the small white stones that mark the village of Bethany\u2014a pink\non your cheek, born, as I thought, of the excitement of being among\nthose tiny photographs of the wonderful past, but born in part, I now\nbelieve, of the fact that Mr. Evan Roberts joined us in our walk. Oh,\nlittle mousie, how quiet you were!\n\n   \"Well, many things have since transpired. We are old married women,\nyou and Ruth, and Eurie and I. I suppose the contrast in our lives\u2014the\noutward portion of them, I mean\u2014is still as strongly marked, perhaps\nmore so, than it was when we were in Chautauqua together. We were girls\nthen; we are matrons now, and with the taking on of that title, Ruth\nand I took special and great responsibilities.\n\n   \"To-night it rains. Dr. Dennis has been called to the upper part of the\ncity\u2014away out to Springdale, in fact\u2014to see a sick and dying man, and I\nam alone and almost lonely. If I could summon any one of the three to\nmy aid and comfort, I would. I am almost as lonely as I was on some of\nthose evenings in the old boarding-house. Still there are differences:\nthe smoky old stove is not\u2014a summer warmth floats through the house,\nborn of steam; no ill-smelling kerosene lamp offends your aesthetic\nfriend to-night, but the softest of shaded drop-lights sheds a halo\naround me. Isn't that almost poetic?\n\n   \"Moreover, oh, blessed thought! I have no examination-papers to\nprepare, no reports to make up; nothing to do but visit with you.\nAlso, I will admit just to you that this is another and most blessed\ndifference between this and my lonely past\u2014at almost any moment now\nI may hope for Dr. Dennis's ring; and when he comes, all sense of\nloneliness will instantly depart. Ah! Flossy, dear Flossy, this is\nsuch a difference as even you cannot appreciate! You had your mother\nand father, and all your dear home friends, and I had no one; and,\nbesides\u2014here I hesitate, lest you may be too obtuse to understand the\nreasoning\u2014you have only added Mr. Roberts to your circle of treasures.\nHe is grand and good, I know, and I like him, without even a mental\nreservation; but, my dear, I have added Dr. Dennis! Can human language\nsay more?\n\n   \"Nonsense aside, sweet little woman, God has been very good to you\nand me. Yet, Flossy, do you remember how, during those last months in\nwhich we were together, I fell into the habit of telling you a great\ndeal about the thorns, and admitted to you once that they pricked less\nwhen they had felt your soothing touch? I want to tell you something.\nOur Gracie\u2014I am so sorry for her, yet I don't know what to do. She is\nliving a most unhappy life, and of course she shadows our lives also.\n\n   \"I told you, dear, about Professor Ellis. He is still trying to\nconvince poor Gracie that I, being her stepmother, must be her natural\nenemy; reminding her that before I came into the family, her father was\nentirely willing to receive his calls, and allowed her to accept his\nattentions. Don't you see, it isn't strange at all that the poor little\ngirl should believe him and turn from me. She has many injudicious\nhelpers in her father's congregation. There are those who sigh over her\nalmost in my hearing.\n\n   \"'Poor Gracie!' they say. 'How changed she is! She used to be so\nbright and happy. There is something unnatural in these second-mother\nrelations. All high-spirited children rebel.'\n\n   \"Imagine such talk helping Gracie! Meantime, what do you suppose can\nbe Professor Ellis's motive? I cannot think that he cares for her; I\nalmost do not believe that there is enough purity left in him even\nto admire a pure-hearted young girl\u2014certainly not one with such high\nideals and earnest ambitions as Gracie had.\n\n   \"'Why does she admire him?' I fancy I hear you asking.\n\n   \"My dear, she doesn't: she thinks she does, and at seventeen such\nthoughts sometimes work irreparable mischief; but left alone, one of\nthese days she would make the discovery that she was flattered by his\nattentions, because he is nearly fifteen years older than she, and\nis brilliant in conversation, and quoted as the finest musician in\nthe city. I wish I knew more things about him. What I do know shows\nme plainly enough the sort of man he is; but with these guileless\nyoung things it seems as though one had to unmask wickedness very\nthoroughly before they will believe that it is anything but gossip or\nmisrepresentation.\n\n   \"He has gone away for a six weeks' vacation; I don't know where, nor\ndoes Dr. Dennis. Gracie knows, but does not enlighten me.\n\n   \"Flossy, dear, could you give me a little wholesome advice, do you\nthink? I wonder, sometimes, whether I was not too complacent over\nmy proposed duties. Such schemes as I had! I was going to be the\nblessedest stepmother that girl ever had. That would not be saying\nmuch, possibly. Don't we all incline to think that the second mothers\nmust be wrong, and the sons and daughters poor abused darlings? But I\nloved Gracie, you know, and she seemed to love me, and to be so happy\nover the thought of our near relationship.\n\n   \"There is very little happiness from any such source during these days.\nGracie has retired into dignity. She can be the most dignified young\nwoman on occasion that I ever beheld. She is not rude to me; on the\ncontrary, she is ceremoniously polite\u2014calls me Mrs. Dennis, and all\nthat sort of thing, when necessity compels her to call me anything. But\nshe speaks as little as possible; sits at table with us three times a\nday, when she cannot secure an excuse for absence that her father will\naccept; says, 'Yes, sir,' and, 'No, sir,' obediently to him, and, 'No,\nma'am, thank you,' to me; and that is the extent of our conversation.\nGenerally her face is pale and her eyes red, and at the first possible\nmoment she begs to be excused, and retires to the privacy of her own\nroom and locks her door.\n\n   \"Her father has stopped her music lessons; at least she preferred to\nhave them stopped rather than take lessons of any other person, so she\npractises no more. She continues her German and French, and secures\ngood reports from the professors; but there is an air of weariness and\ndreariness about everything she does, that makes one alternate between\na feeling of deep pity for her and a desire to box her ears or shut her\nup in a corner until she can behave herself. As a rule, however, I am\nsorry for her. I was young once myself; I was undisciplined; I had no\nmother, and I had a thousand wild fancies, any one of which might have\nruined me.\n\n   \"What do you think you would do, dear, if Mr. Roberts had a daughter\nand you were her mother? You are all in a flush now, and have laid down\nthis sheet and said aloud, 'What an idea! Marion does say the most\nabsurd things!'\n\n   \"Well, then, if you were Marion Dennis, and stood before God in the\nplace of mother to Grace Dennis, what do you imagine you would do? I'll\ntell you my policy. I am uniformly cheerful in her presence\u2014gay, if I\ncan make gaiety out of anything\u2014not toward her father, you understand,\nbecause I can fancy that might irritate her. I really try to be gay\ntoward Gracie herself; but can you imagine an attempt to be cheery\nwith a tombstone? I study as much as I can her tastes, in the ordering\nof dinner and desserts, and arrange the flowers that I know she likes\nbest; and, in short, try to do all those little bits of nice things\nthat I feel certain you would do in my place. And just here I may as\nwell own that I learned these small prettinesses studying you\u2014never\nshould have thought them out for myself.\n\n   \"Flossy, Dr. Dennis is one of the most patient and long-suffering of\nmen, but it is very hard for him to be patient with poor Gracie, harder\nthan it is for me: first, because I know by personal experience just\nwhat a turbulent young creature a miss of seventeen or eighteen can be;\nand secondly, because it is upon me her displeasure falls most heavily,\nand that naturally he resents.\n\n   \"Why am I writing all this to you? I don't know, childie, really, save\nthat I remember what a curious way you have of telling Jesus all about\nyour friends and their trials, and I remember with great comfort that\nyou are my friend. Don't imagine me as miserable; I can never be that\nso long as Christ is the present helper that he is to me now; and you\ndo not need to be told that I daily thank him for giving me my husband.\nBut I think you will understand better than many would how earnestly\nI desire to fill the place of mother to my bright young motherless\nGracie, with her dangerous beauty and her dangerous talents, and her\ncapacity for being miserable. Oh, I want to do more than my duty! I\nwant to love her with all my heart, and to have her love me. If it were\nnot for that man, who always hated me, and who, I believe in my heart,\nhas sought her out and is pressing his attentions upon her because he\nsees a possibility of stinging me through her, I might hope to fill the\nplace in her heart that I thought I could.\"\n\nThe letter closed abruptly at this point, and was finished a few days\nafterwards in a different strain, giving plenty of home news, and being\nfull of the brightness which always sparkled in Marion's letters; but\nit was the first two or three pages to which Mrs. Roberts turned back,\nand which she thoughtfully re-read. Then she interrupted the busy pen:\u2014\n\n\"Evan, are not the business letters nearly done? I want to read this to\nyou, and then I want to talk with you.\"\n\n\"Delightful prospects both of them,\" he said with energy, as he added\nthe last hurried line, signed, and delivered to his wife to enclose\nin its envelope, then pushed aside writing materials, and sat back to\nenjoy.\n\n\"It isn't all delightful,\" his wife said, shaking her head. \"I did hope\nthat poor Marion was going to have a few years of rest; her life has\nbeen such a hard one.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\"TREMENDOUS FACTS!\"\n\nIT is well that Mrs. Marion Dennis felt entirely safe in her friend\nFlossy's hands, for her affairs were very thoroughly talked over that\nevening, and sundry conclusions arrived at.\n\nOne question Mrs. Roberts asked her husband, at the close of the\nconference, which apparently had nothing to do with Marion Dennis's\naffairs.\n\n\"Evan, do you know Dr. Everett?\"\n\n\"Everett? Let me think\u2014yes, I know of him; a young physician,\ncomparatively, who has not been here long, and has made his mark.\"\n\n\"In what direction?\"\n\n\"Several, perhaps; but I have heard of him chiefly in the line of his\nprofession. He was accidentally called to attend a young lady belonging\nto a very wealthy family out in Brookline. I say accidentally\u2014that\nis a common way we have of speaking, you know; of course I mean\nprovidentially.\n\n\"The nursery governess in the family was sick, and this Dr. Everett,\nwho had fallen in with her somewhere, volunteered to cure her. He was\ncalling on her one morning when the sick daughter, who, by the way,\nhad been given up by her physician, was taken suddenly and alarmingly\nworse. In the emergency Dr. Everett was summoned, and while they waited\nfor the regular physician, he succeeded in doing such good service\nthat he inspired the mother with confidence. She became anxious to put\nthe case entirely into his hands, which was done, and the young lady\nrecovered, and Dr. Everett's position, professionally, was assured.\nIsn't that an interesting little item for you? He is said to have\nmarked success; and, of course, since the Brookline occurrence his\npractice is largely among the wealthy. How has your attention been\ncalled to him?\"\n\n\"My protector this morning said he was a 'swell' doctor, who was\nattending that Calkins boy. I wondered if he did it because he loved\nChrist. He might be a helper. I wait to call on that sick boy to-morrow\nif I can arrange it. I think I must take some one with me.\"\n\n\"You may take me with you,\" her husband said emphatically.\n\nHowever much trips through alleys with Nimble Dick might be conducive\nto that young man's moral development, Mr. Roberts felt that his wife\nhad experimented sufficiently.\n\n\nThus it transpired that, dressed in the plainest, quietest garb which\nher wardrobe could furnish, Mrs. Roberts went to the alley the next\nmorning accompanied by her husband.\n\nIn one sense it was a mistake that the first call in the alley should\nhave been made on the Calkins family. It was calculated to give Mrs.\nRoberts mistaken ideas as to the manner in which poor people lived.\nA bare enough room, certainly, not even a bit of carpet laid before\nthe bed, but it was a clean room. Floor and window and cupboard door\nwere as clean as water could make them; and the bed, while it looked\nhopelessly hard and dreadful to Mrs. Roberts, was really a pattern of\nneatness and purity to every dweller in that attic. There was a straw\ntick, covered with a dark calico spread which did duty as a sheet, and\nthe boy who lay on it was covered by a patched quilt that had been\nmended, and was clean. Wonderful things these to say of such a locality!\n\nMr. Roberts suspected it, and Dr. Everett knew it. That gentleman was\nbending over his patient when the two guests arrived, and vouchsafed\nthem not even a glance while the dark-haired, dark-eyed, homely,\ndecently dressed girl gave Mrs. Roberts a seat on the one chair which\nthe room contained, and set a stool for her husband that had been made\nof four old chair legs and a square board.\n\nSallie Calkins was somewhat flurried by this unexpected call. She had\nno idea who the people were, nor for what they had come. A vague fear\nthat they might be in some way connected with her brother's \"place\" at\nthe printing-office, which he was in such fear of losing that his night\nhad been a restless one, made her hasten to say, in a tremulous voice,\u2014\n\n\"The doctor thinks he will be well in a little while. It isn't a bad\nbreak, he says, and Mark wants to keep his place. He thinks, maybe,\nsome of the alley boys would keep it for him, if you would be so kind.\"\n\nShe was evidently addressing Mr. Roberts, but she looked at Flossy. The\nfair, sweet face, that gave her such sympathetic glances, seemed the\none to appeal to. Mr. Roberts, however, discerned that he was mistaken\nfor the employer, and immediately dispelled the idea by asking where\nthe boy worked, and how the accident had happened.\n\n\"It was the elevator, sir,\" she said eagerly. \"The chain broke, and it\nwent down with a bang, and Mark was on it, and he rolled off somehow,\nhe doesn't know how; and he has been that bad that he couldn't tell me\nif he had. He was kind of wild, sir, all night, and talking about his\nplace.\"\n\n\"Was there no one but you to be with him during the night?\" Mrs.\nRoberts asked. \"Where is the mother?\"\n\n\"We've got no mother, ma'am; there is only Mark and me\u2014and father,\" she\nadded, after a doubtful pause. \"But father was not at home last night.\nOh, I didn't need no one to take care of Mark. I wouldn't have left\nhim.\"\n\n\"And he likes to have you take care of him, I am sure. What do you give\nhim to eat? He will need nourishing food, I think\u2014beef teas and broths,\nand nice little tempting dishes made with milk, perhaps. Are you his\ncook, too? I wonder if you wouldn't like to have me show you how to\nmake good things for him? I've learned how to make some nice dishes\nthat sick people like.\"\n\nBefore the bewildered girl could answer, the doctor turned abruptly\nfrom his long examination of his patient, and gave the guests the first\nattention he had vouchsafed them. The truth was, this man had had some\nunfortunate experiences with district visitors, and had perhaps an\nunreasonable prejudice against them as a class.\n\n\"I can't help it, ma'am,\" he said to Mrs. Saunders, when she was taking\nhim to task one day. \"There are exceptions, of course, at least we will\nhope there are; but if you had seen some of my specimens, you would\nbe the first to wish an infusion of common sense could be introduced\namong them. As a rule, they offer a tract where they should give a loaf\nof bread or a bowl of broth, and wedge their advice and reproofs in\nwith every helpful movement. It is like so many doses of medicine to\nthe patient\u2014to be endured because he is at their mercy, and can't help\nhimself. They mean well, the most of them; but the trouble is, we have\na way of making district visitors out of people who have nothing to do,\nand who have never learned that 'all the nations of the earth were made\nof one blood.'\"\n\nSomething in Mrs. Roberts's tones or words seemed to interest him, and\nhe turned toward her.\n\n\"Does this alley belong to you?\" he asked abruptly, his mind still full\nof the district visitor.\n\nShe regarded him with a puzzled air for a moment, then answered\nna\u00efvely,\u2014\n\n\"I don't think it does; if it did, I would have some things ever so\ndifferent.\"\n\nDr. Everett laughed; and Mr. Roberts came forward and introduced\nhimself.\n\n\"My wife has hardly answered you fully,\" he said. \"I am under the\nimpression that she desires to adopt a certain portion of this alley\u2014at\nleast I have heard of little else since last Sabbath afternoon. She is\nin search of some stray sheep who have been put under her care.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" the doctor said, turning quickly to her, \"a Sabbath school\nteacher? Is this young man one of your scholars?\"\n\nNo, she explained; but she had heard of him while inquiring where one\nof her boys lived, and she had called to see if she could help in any\nway. Dirk Colson was the boy, who, they told her lived near this place.\n\nThe eyes of the trim sister brightened.\n\n\"He lives in the next square,\" she said. \"O, ma'am, are you his\nteacher, and do you care for him? I'm so glad.\"\n\n\"He is a favourite of yours, is he?\" the doctor asked, looking from\none speaking face to another, and seeming immensely interested in the\nmatter.\n\n\"No, indeed!\" the girl said quickly. \"He's horrid! But I'm sorry for\nhis sister; and she wants Dirk to get on, and he never does get on. But\nI thought maybe such a kind of a teacher could help him.\"\n\nThere was such intense and genuine admiration in the girl's voice for\nthe vision of loveliness before her, that Dr. Everett could not help\nsmiling.\n\n\"It doesn't seem unlikely,\" said he with significance; and added, \"Who\nis this Dirk Colson who seems to be an object of interest?\"\n\n\"He is one of the worst boys in the alley, sir; sometimes I think he\nis the very worst, because he is cross as well as hateful. But Mark is\nalways kind of sorry for him, and says he has such a bad father, he\ncan't help it. And Mart\u2014that's his sister\u2014she is a friend of mine, and\nshe feels bad about Dirk, but she can't do nothing; he ain't a bit like\nMark there.\"\n\nThe last words were spoken tenderly, and the sisterly eyes turned\ntoward the boy on the bed, and obeying a sign from his eyes she went\nover to him. The doctor plied his questions,\u2014\n\n\"Rave you recently taken a class, madam? And is their general\nreputation as encouraging as this special scamp of whom we are hearing?\"\n\nHis words almost jarred on Mrs. Roberts. She had already prayed enough\nfor her boys to have a sort of tender feeling for them\u2014a half desire\nto cover their faults from the gaze of the indifferent world. Did Dr.\nEverett represent the indifferent world, or did he love her Master? She\nwished she knew.\n\n\"There is nothing encouraging about them,\" she said with grave\nearnestness, \"save the facts that they are made in the image of God,\nand that he wants them to 'turn from the power of Satan unto God, that\nthey may receive forgiveness of sins, and an inheritance among them\nwhich are sanctified.'\"\n\nA rare flash of intelligence and appreciation greeted her now from\nthose fine eyes bent so scrutinizingly on her.\n\n\"Tremendous facts!\" he said. \"Glorious possibilities! 'Himself\nhath said it.' I claim kinship with you; I am an heir of the same\ninheritance.\"\n\nHe held a hand to each, and they were cordially grasped. Then Dr.\nEverett proceeded to business.\n\n\"There is enough to do,\" he said; \"everything is lacking here; there\nis severe poverty, united to the most scrupulous tenderness and the\nmost tender love on the part of this brother and sister. I stumbled\non the case, and will do, professionally, all that is needed. And I\nhave a friend who would undoubtedly come to the rescue, but she is\ncrowded just now. I shall be rejoiced to report to her a helper. Do\nyou know Joy Saunders? Well, I wish you did; she is one whom you could\nappreciate. She is young, though, and without a husband to guard her,\nand there are some places to which she cannot come.\"\n\n\"Has she learned that important fact?\" asked Mr. Roberts with a\nsignificant smile. Then some explanation seemed necessary. \"This lady,\"\nhe said, \"tried the alley alone yesterday, and lost her way, and went\nlower down\u2014quite near to Burk Street, I imagine.\"\n\n\"And what happened?\" The quick question and the doctor's tone suggested\npossibilities not pleasant.\n\n\"Oh, she met one of her new recruits\u2014as hard a boy, so one of the\npolicemen on this beat tells me, as there is in the row\u2014and pressed him\ninto service to escort her back to civilization; and, strange to say,\nthe fellow did it without playing any tricks.\"\n\nThe doctor turned on the small lady a curious glance.\n\n\"I think you may be able to do something, even for Dirk Colson,\" he\nsaid.\n\n\"Do you know him?\"\n\nHe laughed over the eagerness of the question.\n\n\"Never heard of him before. I was only thinking of our friend's\ndescription of his awfulness.\u2014Ah, whom have we here?\"\n\nFor the door had opened abruptly, and a pair of great blue eyes, set\nin a frame of tawny hair all in a frizzle, had peered in on them. The\nvision was clothed in garments so torn, the wonder was that they stayed\non at all, and there was a general look of abject poverty about her to\nwhich Sallie Calkins, with all the bareness of her lot, was a stranger.\n\nShe stood for just a moment, as if transfixed by astonishment at the\nunwonted sight in the room, then turned and sped way as swiftly and\nsilently as she had come.\n\n\"That is Dirk's sister,\" Sallie Calkins said, coming forward, her\nhomely face aglow with shame. \"She isn't a bad girl, ma'am, she doesn't\nmean to be, but she has a dreadful time. Her mother is sickly, and has\nto go out washing, times when she isn't able to sit up; and there 'll\nbe days when she can't hold up her head. And the father is bad, ma'am,\nand drinks, and swears, and sells things for drink till there ain't\nnothing left to sell; and Mart hasn't anything to mend her clothes\nwith, and she doesn't know how, anyway; and she hasn't even got a comb\nto comb her hair with, her father he took it to sell. And everything\nthere is horrid, and Dirk, he's awful.\"\n\nIt was strange\u2014she could not herself account for it\u2014but with every\nadded word of misery that set poor Dirk Colson lower and lower in the\nscale of humanity, there seemed to come into this woman's heart, and\nshine in her face, an assurance that he was to be a \"chosen vessel unto\nGod.\"\n\nThe doctor was watching her again, curious, apparently, to see how this\npitiful appeal for forbearance in judging of poor Mart affected her,\nand something in his face made her say, speaking low, \"an inheritance\namong them which are sanctified.\"\n\n\"Amen!\" he said.\n\nAnd there came to Mrs. Roberts a feeling that this earnest prayer, for\nthe second time repeated by two men who prayed, was a sort a seal from\nthe Master.\n\nShe turned away from both gentlemen then; the tears were very near the\nsurface. She must do something to tone down the beating of her heart.\nSallie was at hand, and she went with her to another corner of the\nroom, and a low-toned conversation was carried on, scraps of which\nfloated back to the gentlemen in the form of \"sheets,\" \"grape jelly,\"\n\"mutton broth,\" \"a soft pillow,\" and the like.\n\n\"I feel my patient growing better,\" the doctor said with satisfaction.\n\n\"Is there no father here?\" Mr. Roberts asked.\n\nThe doctor shook his head, but answered,\u2014\n\n\"There is the most pitiful apology for a father that I ever saw\u2014a mere\nwreck of a man! Spends his time in a sort of weak drinking, if I may\ncoin a phrase to describe him; he actually uses no energy even in that\nbusiness. Just staggers around and bemoans his lot\u2014a most unfortunate\nman, in his own estimation, with whom the world, through no fault of\nhis, has gone wrong. He is never downright intoxicated, and never free\nfrom the effects of liquor. He is much like a wilted leaf in the hands\nof this boy and girl. They could pitch him out of the window without\nmuch difficulty, and if the fall did not kill him, he would shed tears\nand say it was a hard world.\n\n\"But now, what do we see when the name of father is so dishonoured\u2014made\na wreck, as it were? Why, the order of nature is reversed, and these\nchildren take on the protective. They are father and mother, and he is\nthe weak, sinning child. The way that that boy and girl have worked\nto keep their miserable father from starving or freezing is something\nto astonish the very angels. They shield him, too; nobody who wants\nto reach their hearts must blame him. They are a study!\u2014As different\nfrom the other inhabitants of the alley as the sky is different from\nthat mud-hole down there. It isn't a good simile, either. There is no\nreligion in their efforts. They are the veriest heathen.\"\n\n\"How do you account for the development?\"\n\nThe doctor shook his head.\n\n\"I don't account for it; it is abnormal. There must have been a mother\nwho left her impress. I can't learn anything about the mother\u2014she died\nwhen the girl was an infant; but I would like to know her history. I\nventure to assert that she belonged to Christ, and that a gleam of the\ndivine pity that she saw in him, and loved, left its impress on her\nchildren. That is somewhat mystical,\" he added, smiling. \"I rarely talk\nin this way; it must have been your wife who set me off.\"\n\n\"But she is the most practical and energetic of beings!\"\n\n\"Ay, so are the angels, I fancy; and make us think of heaven directly\nwe hear the rustle of their wings. Has your wife been a Christian long?\"\n\n\"Barely two years since she began to think of these things.\"\n\n\"I thought as much. She impresses me as one who is being led; who\ndoes not choose to go alone; has not learned how, indeed. A very few\nChristians never learn how, and with them the Lord does his special\nwork. Well, sir, I must go. I'm glad to have met you, and glad to leave\nyou here. Good-morning!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\"AND SHE ALWAYS TRIED.\"\n\nOTHER business was transacted that morning which brought results. A\ncurious habit of Mrs. Roberts's\u2014one which, perhaps, most strongly\nmarked the difference between her ways of working and those of other\npeople\u2014was that of appealing to the person at hand for information on\nany subject which chanced to be the one prominent in her mind at the\ntime.\n\nWhere other and more systematic persons would have said, \"He is not the\none to ask about this matter; there is no reason for supposing that he\nhas any knowledge in this direction,\" Mrs. Roberts would say, \"I cannot\nbe sure that he may not be able to give just the information which I\nneed. In any case, what harm will it do to try?\" And she always tried.\n\nIt was on this principle that she arrested Dr. Everett's speedy\ndeparture with a question,\u2014\n\n\"Dr. Everett, are you familiar with boarding-houses for young men?\"\n\nSomething like a vision swept instantly before the doctor, in which he\nsaw the long line of young men and the long line of boarding-houses in\nthe world; and he laughed with eyes and lips, the question seemed so\nqueerly put.\n\n\"With how many of them, madam?\" There was amusement in his voice, but\nthere was also curiosity; he wanted to know what this original little\nlady was in search of.\n\n\"One would do, if it were of just the right stamp. I'll tell you what\nI want,\u2014a nice, quiet, comfortable 'home' sort of place, with a small\nroom, capable of being warmed, a single bedstead, with a passably\ngood bed, and a moderate rate of board. Are not those modest enough\nrequirements?\"\n\n\"Not at all! They are preposterous! A boarding-house to which one could\nconveniently apply the word 'home'! 'Fire' in a young man's room! He is\nexpected to enjoy freezing in a city; and if he come from the country,\nhe should be grateful for the privilege! But the idea of calling for a\ngood bed! That is the wildest suggestion of all!\u2014Has she ever boarded,\nMr. Roberts?\"\n\n\"Not at a boarding-house, at least,\" said that gentleman, enjoying the\nfun.\n\nBut Mrs. Roberts looked grave.\n\n\"Are you serious?\" she asked gently. \"Is there no chance in this great\ncity for a Christian young man to have the ordinary comforts of common\nlife\u2014just a little quiet room where he can pray, and where he can\ninvite some tempted soul, and try to help him? Doesn't it seem all\nwrong?\"\n\nThe laugh was gone from the doctor's face. There was a look of keen\ninterest and genuine respect.\n\n\"How many young men are you thinking about? There are many Christians,\nI believe, among that class\u2014poor young men away from home\u2014and I have\nreason to fear that their chances for comfortable retirement are very\nscarce. I have thought about the problem somewhat how to help them. In\nthe concrete, I don't see the way. Of how many are you thinking?\"\n\n\"I am willing to think about them all,\" Mrs. Roberts said\u2014and now it\nwas her turn to laugh\u2014\"but I am planning for just one. I cannot work in\ngreat ways, but I thought I might help one.\"\n\n\"Exactly!\u2014Mr. Roberts, if every Christian in our city would undertake\nto help one, the problem would be solved. Well, there is one\nboarding-house to which the word 'home' may properly be applied; and\nthere is one small room on the third floor vacated yesterday. I wonder\nif the Master wants it for your young man. It seems to me if there is\nany one thing more than another that we need in that house just now it\nis a Christian young man. Of what type is your friend? Will he help or\nhinder a gay young scamp much sought after by Satan?\"\n\n\"He will try hard to help,\" said both Mr. and Mrs. Roberts.\n\nAnd before they parted the doctor had taken Mr. Reid's address, and\npromised to call on him and negotiate the matter.\n\n\"That plan will work in two ways,\" said Mrs. Roberts gleefully. \"Mr.\nReid will be in the same home with, and somewhat under the influence\nof, that grand doctor. Isn't it splendid that we asked just him?\"\n\nAnd her husband smilingly assented, and added that he should not have\nthought of such a thing as asking him.\n\nOn her way down town, Mrs. Roberts had dropped a letter in the mail,\nwhich also brought results. It read thus:\u2014\n\n   \"DEAR MARION,\u2014I have time for but a line, for I want to catch the\nmorning mail. I have such a nice plan. Suppose you let your Gracie\ncome and stay with me for a few weeks. You know she always liked me a\nlittle, and Evan and I think we can make it pleasant for her. I will\ntry to get her so much interested in seven boys whom I know that she\nwill forget all about Professor Ellis. Mr. Barnwell, a confidential\nclerk in the store (old and gray-headed), will go to-morrow to transact\nsome business with papa. Evan will give him a letter of introduction\nto Dr. Dennis. He expects to return on Saturday, and if you will trust\nGracie to us, and she is willing to come, she might travel in Mr.\nBarnwell's care, and we would meet her at the station. Dear Marion,\nwe should like it ever so much; and I have prayed about it all the\nmorning, and cannot help thinking that Jesus likes it too.\"\n\n\nThus it came to pass that when Mrs. Roberts took her seat on the next\nSabbath afternoon before her seven boys at the South End Mission, a\nvision of loveliness, such as the mission had not often seen, came in\nwith her, and looked with wide-open eyes on all the new and strange\nsights and sounds about her.\n\nA very pretty creature was Gracie Dennis. Her eyes had lost none of\ntheir brightness, although they had shed some tears during her recent\nexperiences. They were fairly sparkling to-day, for the great city\ninto which she had come for the first time was like fairyland to her;\nalbeit, she had passed through scenes that afternoon which bore no\nresemblance to her idea of fairyland.\n\nWhat the boys thought of her could only be determined from their\nstares. Let us hope that her presence had nothing to do with their\nconduct, for never, in all the annals of the South End Mission, had\nseven boys comported themselves as did those before whom Mrs. Roberts\nsat that winter afternoon.\n\nNimble Dick, as if to be revenged for his unintentional courtesy of\nthe Monday before, placed his ill-kept feet on the seat in front of\nhim, in alarming proximity to Mrs. Roberts's shoulders, and chewed\nhis tobacco, and defiled the floor with its juice, and talked aloud,\nand was in every sense disgusting. Neither was Dirk Colson one whit\nbehind him. The spirit of entertainment was upon him. He mimicked Mr.\nDurant's somewhat hoarse tones, exaggerating the imitation, of course,\nuntil it was ludicrous. He imitated the somewhat shrill tenor and the\nnasal tones of Deacon Carter, who was doing good work with a class of\nmeek-looking women. He even imitated Mrs. Roberts's soft, low voice, as\nshe essayed to interest them in Moses and some of the wonders which he\nperformed.\n\nVain hope! Struggle as she might to be intensely dramatic in her\nnarrative, she did not for a moment gain the ascendency.\n\n\"Moses?\" interrupted Nimble Dick in the very midst of one of her most\nearnest sentences. \"Let's see! That was the old fellow who swallowed\nthe serpents, wasn't it? I should have thought he would have been used\nup.\"\n\n\"You don't know nothin',\" interrupted Stephen Crowley, with a nudge at\nDirk that the latter pretended tipped him entirely off his seat, and\nleft him a limp heap at Mrs. Roberts's feet.\n\n\"He don't know nothin'!\" repeated Stephen, addressing Mrs. Roberts in\na confidential tone. \"'Twas the serpents swallowed Moses, wasn't it?\nQuestion is, How did he get around again?\"\n\n\"Quit that!\" came at this point from Dirk Colson, in his fiercest tone.\n\"Look here, you Bill Snyder, if you try pinching on me again, I'll\npitch you over the head of old Durant in less than a second!\"\n\nWhat was the poor, pale little woman to do? With one boy crawling about\nthe floor and two others in a hand-to-hand fight, with the rest in a\ngiggle, of what use to try to talk to them about Moses? You should have\nseen Gracie Dennis's eyes by that time! Horror and disgust were about\nequally expressed, and rising above them both, a look of actual fear.\nMr. Durant came over to attempt a rescue, his face distressed beyond\nmeasure.\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, this is too much. I am sure that patience has ceased to\nbe a virtue. They have never gone so far before. I suspected mischief\nto-day. I have heard from several of them during the week, and never\nanything but evil. I am prepared for it: there is a full police force\non guard in the next room; what I propose is to have every one of these\nfellows taken to the lock-up. It will be a lesson that they richly\ndeserve, and may do them good.\"\n\nWhispering was not one of Mr. Durant's strong points. He meant to\nconvey secret intelligence of carefully-laid plans to Mrs. Roberts\nalone. In reality, not a boy in the class but heard every word. They\nwere startled into silence.\n\n\"A full police force!\"\n\nThey were not fonder of the lock-up than are most boys who deserve\nthat punishment. They were skilful in escaping the hands of policemen.\nThey had not believed that the South End Mission would resort to any\nsuch means. They recognized in the mission an attempt to do them good;\nand, without any effort at reasoning it out, they had by tacit consent\ndecided that policemen and lock-ups and Christian effort did not match.\nThey had chuckled much over the stationing of \"little Duffer\" at the\ndoor on guard. Any two of the strong young fellows were a match for\nhim; and in the event of a riot, which they would like no better fun\nthan to help to get up, how many choice spirits all about the room\nwould join them if given the word, and in the delightful confusion\nwhich would result how easy to escape from sight and hearing while\nPoliceman Duffer was summoning aid! They had felt comparatively safe;\nbut \"a full police force\" detailed for duty was quite another thing.\n\nThey felt caught in a trap. Nimble Dick got up in haste from the floor\nand took his seat, and the boys looked from one to another with ominous\nfrowns. There were reasons why none of them cared to come before the\npolice court just now. What was to be done?\n\nWhile they waited and considered, Mrs. Roberts did it. Her hand was on\nMr. Durant's arm, and directly the loud whispering ceased, she spoke in\nlow but distinctly emphatic tones,\u2014\n\n\"I beg of you, Mr. Durant, do no such thing. I would dismiss every\npoliceman at once, with thanks, if I were you. We shall not need their\nhelp. I give you my word of honour that the boys will be quiet during\nthe rest of the session, not because they are afraid of policemen,\nbut because they respect me, and do not want to see me frightened or\nannoyed. Please don't let a policeman come near us.\"\n\nI am not sure which was the more astonished, the superintendent or the\nboys. He returned to his desk with the bewildered air of one whose\ndeep-laid schemes had come to naught in an unexpected manner without\ngiving him time to rally; and the boys looked at one another in\nperplexity, and were silent.\n\nMrs. Roberts turned to them with quiet voice.\n\n\"Boys,\" she said, \"you have spoiled the story that I was going to tell\nyou. I have lost my place, and there isn't time to go back and find it.\nI am sorry, for I think you would have liked the story. I spent a good\ndeal of time this week trying to make it interesting. But never mind\nnow, there is something else I want to say. Will you spend the hours\nfrom eight to ten with me to-morrow evening at my house? I brought\ncards with me for each of you containing my address, that you might\nhave no trouble in finding the place.\"\n\nWhereupon she produced the delicate bits of pasteboard with her name\nand address handsomely engraved thereon.\n\nNimble Dick took his between his soiled thumb and finger, turned it\nover in a pretence of great interest, and finally endeavoured to\n\"sight\" it with his eye as a workman does his board.\n\n\"What 'll you do with us if we come?\" Stephen Crowley asked, fixing\nwhat was intended as a wise look upon her, the leer in his eye hinting\nthat he was smart enough to see another trap, and meant not to fall\ninto it.\n\nMrs. Roberts laughed pleasantly.\n\n\"It is an unusual question when one invites company,\" she said; \"but\nI don't mind answering it. For one thing, I thought we would have an\noyster stew and some good coffee together. Then, if any of you like\nmusic, I have a friend with me who is a good singer; and I have a few\npictures I should like you to see, if you cared to; and\u2014I don't know\nwhether you are fond of flowers, but some of you may have a mother or\nsister at home who is, and the greenhouse is all aglow just now. Oh,\nhow can I tell what I should do to entertain guests? Just what seemed\nto me to be pleasant at the time. That is the way I generally do. May I\nexpect you?\"\n\nThe boys stared. This was a new departure indeed! How much of it did\nshe mean? What was she trying to do? Was it a trap? Still, she had\nrescued them from the police force, and they had not expected that,\nfor every boy of them knew that he had treated her shamefully. Timothy\nHaskell was generally the quietest one of the group, and perhaps the\nmost straightforward. He went directly to the point of the question\nthat he saw in the eyes of the others.\n\n\"What do you do it for?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's the talk,\" said Nimble Dick. \"What do you want of us?\"\n\n\"Why, I want you to spend the evening with me. Didn't I tell you? If\nyou really mean to be friends with me, of course I must invite you to\nmy home. What could I want except to have a nice time? I'm trying to\nmake you like me. Of course I want you to like me. How can we have\npleasant times together unless you do?\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\"I HAVE BUT TO TRY AGAIN.\"\n\n\"PLEASANT times like we've been having to-day?\" said Nimble Dick with a\nwicked leer.\n\nIf he meant to disconcert her, he missed his point.\n\n\"No,\" she said promptly; \"we haven't had a bit nice times to-day; and\nas for liking you, I haven't done so to-day at all. If I had the least\nidea that you meant often to treat me as you have this afternoon, I\nshould know it was of no use. But I cannot think that you will continue\nto treat a lady in such a manner, particularly when I am really trying\nto make a pleasant time for you. There is no object, you see, in\nspoiling it.\"\n\nThis plain bit of truth, for the time being, so commended itself to the\njudgment of the boys, that they regarded the speaker gravely, without\nattempting a reply. She was not moralizing\u2014at least it was unlike any\nmoralizing that they had ever heard. It seemed to be simply a bit of\npractical common sense. Not a boy would have owned it, but each felt,\njust at that moment, a faint hope that she would not decide it was of\nno use, and give them up. Straightforward Tim Haskell had one more\nquestion to ask:\u2014\n\n\"Why didn't you let them bring in their police and settle us?\"\n\nTheir teacher hesitated just a moment. Would the \"whole truth\" do to\nspeak in this case? Could she hope to make them understand that she\nsaw in it a step lower down, and that thus degraded before her eyes,\nshe feared her possible hold on them would be gone for ever? No, it\nwouldn't do. A little, a very little piece of the truth was all that\nshe could treat them to. A faint sparkle in her bright eyes, which\nevery one of them saw, and she said:\u2014\n\n\"I was afraid you might not be excused in time to keep your engagement\nwith me to-morrow evening.\"\n\nThey all laughed, not boisterously\u2014actually an appreciative laugh. They\nwere bright; there is hardly a street boy living by his wits who isn't.\nThey recognized the humour hidden in the answer, and enjoyed it.\n\nThen the superintendent's bell rang. That bell always did seem to have\nan evil influence on those boys. Indeed, Mrs. Roberts was known to\nremark, a few Sundays afterwards, that if there were no opening and\nclosing exercises in the Sabbath school, her work would be easier;\nthat street boys did not seem to have one element of devotion in them,\nand needed to be kept at high pressure, in order to be able to control\nthemselves.\n\nThe thought is worthy of study perhaps. It is just possible that our\nopening and closing exercises are too long drawn out even for those who\nare not street boys.\n\nBe that as it may, the little spell which Mrs. Roberts had been able\nfor a few minutes to weave around her boys on this particular Sabbath,\nwas broken by the sound of the bell. The boys returned to their\nmemories of insult, as they regarded the police force. They muttered\nsullenly among themselves about \"traps\" and \"sells,\" and \"guessed they\nwouldn't get caught here again;\" and Mrs. Roberts, seeming not to hear,\nheard with a heavy heart.\n\nHow angry they looked! Even Nimble Dick's usually merry face was\nclouded over. What a curious thing it was that even they had their\nideas of propriety, and felt themselves insulted. Was it an instinct,\nshe wondered\u2014a reminder that there was in them material for manhood?\n\nWould they ever, any of them, be men\u2014Christian gentlemen? It seemed\nalmost too great a stretch for even her imagination. As she moved in\nher seat, her delicately-embroidered, perfumed handkerchief fell to\nthe floor. Mrs. Roberts was used to young men\u2014mere boys, even\u2014whose\ninstinctive movement would be to instantly restore it to her. Not a\nboy before her thought of such a thing. She had not expected it, of\ncourse. Yet she wondered if the instinct were not dormant, needing but\nthe suggestion. It was a queer little notion, worthy of Flossy Shipley\nherself, who, from being continually busy about little things, had come\nto the conclusion that nothing anywhere was little\u2014that the so-called\ntrifles, which make up many lives, had much to do with the happiness\nof other lives. Was it worth her while to try to teach these street\nArabs to pick up fallen handkerchiefs? She differed from many Christian\nworkers in that, in her simplicity, she really thought it was.\n\nThere was a lull just at that moment. A hymn had been announced, but\nthe organist's tune-book had been mislaid, and was being sought after.\nIt could disturb no one if Mrs. Roberts tried her little experiment.\nShe looked longingly at Dirk Colson, but his brows were black and his\neyes fierce; this was no time to reach him. Nimble Dick looked much\nmore approachable. She determined to venture him:\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Bolton,\" spoken in her sweetest voice, \"I have dropped my\nhandkerchief.\"\n\n\"Anybody with half an eye could see that, mum, and a mighty dirty spot\nyou picked out for such a nice little rag to lie in.\"\n\nThis was her only response. Then the discomfited experimenter told\nherself that she was a blunderer. How could this poor fellow be\nexpected to know what she meant? Why had she not asked the service from\nhim? She would try again.\n\nWould he be kind enough to pick it up for her? It was long afterwards\nbefore Mrs. Roberts could think of his answer without a sinking heart.\nFixing bold, saucy eyes on her, he spoke in deliberate tones, loud\nenough to be heard half-way across the room:\u2014\n\n\"Why, pick it up yourself, mum! It is as near to you as it is to me,\nand you don't look weakly.\"\n\nShe picked it up, her poor cheeks burning, but she did not forget it.\n\n\nThe after-school conferences told their different stories.\n\n\"Well,\" Mr. Durant said, stopping in the act of mopping his hot\nforehead to shake hands with her, \"Mrs. Roberts, I honour your courage.\nThose boys were simply fearful to-day; I really feared some outbreak\nthat would be hard to quell. I'm afraid we shall have to give them up.\nYes, I know how you feel; but you haven't been here to see what we have\nborne from them. All sorts of teachers have been tried. We have given\nthem the best material we had, both men and women, and every one has\nfailed. Then you actually want to try it for another Sabbath! Well, I'm\nglad of it. Oh, I don't want to give them up, it makes my heart ache\nto think of it; but if we can't keep them in sufficient order to get\nany benefit, nor find a teacher who is willing to hold on to them, what\nelse is there for us to do? But that last complaint I needn't make so\nlong as you 'hold on,' need I?\" This last with a genial smile. \"Well,\nGod bless you; I couldn't begin to tell you how much I hope you will\nsucceed.\"\n\nBut his face said, \"However, I know you won't.\"\n\nHe turned from her and said as much to young Reid:\u2014\n\n\"She is in earnest, Reid, and she has resources; but she won't catch\nthem, simply because they don't mean to be caught; they come here to\nmake trouble, and for nothing else. Just look at the way they have\nperformed to-day\u2014worse than ever; and they never had a better teacher.\nI've watched her, and I believe she knows how. I'll tell you what it\nis, Reid; we must hold on to her, and when she gives up those boys we\nmust secure her for that class of girls down by the door. I really\nthink we have a prize.\"\n\nNow, if he had but known it, Mrs. Evan Roberts meant to teach no other\nclass at the South End Mission save those boys.\n\n\n\"Flossy Shipley!\" (This was Gracie Dennis's exclamation when she was\nvery much excited; she went back to the old name) \"What are you trying\nto do with those horrid boys? And how can you endure their impudence? I\nnever saw anything like their actions in my life, and I thought I had\nseen bad boys. You look completely worn-out, and no wonder. I shouldn't\nthink Mr. Roberts would let you do this. What good can you do such\ncreatures, Flossy?\"\n\n\"My dear Gracie, don't you think that Jesus Christ died to save them?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Gracie hesitatingly. It was a favourite phrase with her,\nas it is with many people when they don't know what to say next.\n\n\"And don't you think he wants them saved? And will he not be pleased\nwith even my little bits of effort if he knows that my sincere desire\nis to save these souls for his glory?\"\n\n\"But what I mean is, what good can you do them so long as they act as\nthey do now? They didn't listen to a word you said, so as to get any\ngood out of it.\"\n\n\"I don't know that dear, nor do you. Don't you think the Holy Spirit\nsometimes presses words on people that they do not seem to be heeding?\nIn any event, that is a part with which I have nothing to do. I tried,\nand if I failed utterly, I have but to try again. It isn't as though\nthere were some good teacher ready to take them. Nobody will make a\nsecond effort. Now there is one thing I can certainly do\u2014I can keep on\nmaking efforts: who knows but some of them may bear fruit? By the way,\nGracie, I want ever so much of your help.\"\n\n\"Mine!\" said Gracie, with wide-open eyes. \"I don't know how to\nhelp people; I'm not good.\" And her face darkened in a frown, some\nunpleasant memories that went far just then proving the truth of that\nstatement coming to mind just then. After a moment she spoke in a\nsomewhat more gentle tone: \"Don't count on me, Flossy, for help about\nthose boys. They frighten me; I never saw such fellows. I couldn't help\nwondering what\u2014papa would have said to them.\"\n\nBetween the \"wondering\" and the noun there had been an observable\npause. Mrs. Roberts suspected that the thought in Gracie's mind was\nrather what Mrs. Dennis, who was supposed to have much knowledge of\nboys, would have thought of them. But since her arrival Gracie had\nstudiously avoided any reference to her stepmother, and Mrs. Roberts\nhad humoured her folly.\n\n\"Never mind\u2014you can help them; and when you begin to realize that, you\nwill forget your fears.\"\n\n\"Do you expect to see one of the creatures to-morrow evening? What in\nthe world would you do with them if they did come?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure I expect them, I only hope for them. As to what to do\nwith them, I trust to you to help to answer that question. I want to\ngive them an idea of what a nice time is.\"\n\n\"I cannot help,\" said Gracie again; but she was interested, and\nreferred again and again to the subject, cross-questioning Mrs. Roberts\nas to her plans and hopes, until that lady gave a satisfied smile at\nthe thought that her seven boys had begun their work.\n\nThe first part of this conversation was held while they waited in one\nof the class-rooms for Mr. Reid to give in his report before joining\nthem. The waiting suggested to Gracie another question,\u2014\n\n\"Who is this Mr. Reid, who seems to have us in charge?\"\n\n\"He is one of the clerks from the store, which accounts, in part, for\nhis attendance on us. But I am interested in him for other reasons. He\nhad a wonderful sister\u2014that is, she was a wonderful Christian; she died\nwhen quite young, but one might be ready to go to heaven early if one\nhad accomplished as much as she did.\n\n\"By one of those strange arrangements which I should think would go\nfar toward making observing people believe in a special Providence,\nher life, or I might almost say her death, was the means of changing\nthe current of my husband's life. He says he was a gay young fellow, a\nmember of the church, but giving just as little attention to religion\nas many do whom you and I know. An accident to one of his family held\nhim for several weeks in the town where this Esther Reid lived, and\nher physician, with whom he became acquainted, introduced him to her.\nIt seems she was very much interested in young men\u2014in their Christian\ndevelopment. He went to see her several times, and, to use his own\nexpression, she first made him realize that there was such a thing\nas zeal, and then she set it on fire. What she had begun in life she\nfinished in her death. Evan attended her funeral services, and the\nwalls were hung with Bible texts of her selection. The most wonderful\ntexts! All about Christian work, and about being in earnest, because\nthe time was short. Evan says he began to understand then that the\nservice of Christ was first, best, and always.\n\n\"Wasn't it a singular Providence that led him under the influence of\nthat young girl during the closing weeks of her life? Only think, he\nhas been doing her work ever since\u2014doing it, possibly, in ways that she\ncould not compass. That is one reason why I am so much interested in\nthose boys. It seems to me as though they were her boys. Did I tell you\nthat her heart went out especially after the neglected?\n\n\"I learned about the boys through Mr. Reid. He was but a child when\nhis sister died, and yet she succeeded in so enthusing him with her\nideas that he is all the time trying to carry out her plans. She had\nsome wonderful ones. This idea of inviting the boys socially I had from\nher. Do you see how plainly she is working yet, though she has been in\nheaven so long?\"\n\n\"Do you think,\" asked Gracie Dennis, a timid, gentle sound to her\nvoice, \"that all Christians ought to put religion 'first, best, and\nalways,' as your husband said? I fancied that some were set apart to do\na special work.\"\n\n\"We are all set apart, dear, don't you think? Given to Him to use as He\nwill. The trouble is that so many of us take back the gifts, and use\nour time and our tongues as though they were our own.\"\n\n\"Our 'tongues!'\" repeated Gracie, amazement in her voice.\n\n\"Why, yes; didn't you give Him your tongue when you gave Him yourself?\nAnd yet you are fortunate if you have not dishonoured Him with it many\na time.\"\n\nSaid Gracie, \"What a queer way you have of putting things.\"\n\nThen came Alfred Reid in haste, and apologizing for the long delay.\nGracie Dennis watched him curiously, listened critically to his words.\nWas it to be supposed that this young man put religion \"first, best,\nand always,\" and considered his tongue as given to the Lord?\n\nAlfred bore the scrutiny well. He took very little notice of Miss\nGracie, being entirely absorbed with another matter. He had settled\nopinions about Mrs. Roberts now, from which he would not be likely to\nwaver. He had seen much of her during the week, and he knew she had not\nbeen idle. She had given him much valuable information concerning the\nboys in whom he had been interested all winter, and with whom she had\nknown for a week.\n\nAlso he was aware that Sallie and Mark Calkins had seen much of her to\ntheir great benefit. She had made him her messenger on one occasion,\nand he had seen Sallie Calkins take from the basket the clean,\nsweet-smelling sheets that were to freshen her brother's bed, and\nbestow on them rapturous kisses, while she murmured, \"I'd walk on my\nknees in broad daylight through the gutter to serve her\u2014that I would!\"\n\n\"Sheets aren't much, I suppose,\" moralized the young man, as he walked\nthoughtfully homeward. \"People with much less money than she has\nmight have furnished them. It is thinking about things that makes the\ndifference between her and others.\"\n\nBut he had not quite found the secret. The main difference between\nher and many other people lay in the fact that she set steadily about\n\"doing\" the things she thought of that would be nice to do.\n\nOn the whole, young Reid was fully prepared to sympathize with Mr.\nDurant's opinion, that the South End Mission had secured a prize. Not\nthat he was very hopeful over those boys. He felt that their conduct,\nunder the circumstances, showed a depth of depravity which was beyond\nthe reach of mission schools; but it was a comfort to think that good\nthings were arranged for them if they had but chosen to receive. He\nbegan at once to talk about them.\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, they are worse than I had supposed. I am afraid that\nyour patience is exhausted.\"\n\nHer answer was peculiar:\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Reid, I want you to spend to-morrow evening with me. I have\ninvited my boys, and I depend on you and Gracie here to help to\nentertain them.\"\n\n\"Are you equal to such formidable work as that?\" asked Gracie with a\nmischievous smile.\n\nHe did not respond to the smile; he was looking at Mrs. Roberts,\nstudying her face as one bewildered with the rapidity of her moves.\n\n\"I want to be,\" he said with feeling; \"I want to know how to work,\nand I'm learning.\u2014Mrs. Roberts, I moved to my new boarding-house last\nevening, and my room is a perfect little gem. There is an illuminated\ntext in it, and all around it is twined an ivy, growing, don't you\nthink\u2014hidden, you know, behind the frame in a bottle; and the text is\none of my sister's treasures. Isn't that a singular coincidence?\"\n\n\"It is very nice,\" said Mrs. Roberts, with satisfied eyes. She still\nmade much use of that little word.\n\n\"And, Mrs. Roberts, I asked one of your boys to come in this evening\nand see my room.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\"I WANT THEM TO GET USED TO PARLOURS.\"\n\n\"THOSE two people can think and talk of nothing but those dreadful\nboys,\" said Gracie to herself, half annoyed and wholly interested.\nShe found herself that very evening turning over the music, with the\nwonderment in her mind as to what she could sing that they would be\nlikely to care for\u2014provided one of them appeared, which thing she did\nnot expect.\n\nBut I have not told you of all the discussions had that day. The boys\nwent their various ways, their minds also busy with the events of the\nafternoon. Dirk Colson and Stephen Crowley went off together; not that\nthey were special friends, but their homes lay near together. For the\ndistance of half a block they walked in silence; then Stephen Crowley\nspoke his mind:\u2014\n\n\"Nimble Dick wasn't near as smart to-day as he thinks he was, accordin'\nto my way of thinkin'.\"\n\n\"He was meaner than dirt!\" burst forth Dirk fiercely. \"To go back on\nher like that, after she had saved us from a row with the police, ain't\nwhat I believe in. Why couldn't he have picked up the rag, seeing she\nwanted him to? That's what I say. I'd 'a done it myself if she had give\nme the chance.\"\n\n\"That there Dick Bolton can be too mean for anything when he sets out,\"\nsaid Stephen, with a grave air of superiority. \"I don't go in for\nanything of that kind myself. We wasn't none of us much to boast of;\nbut Dick, he went too fur. I say, Dirk, what do you s'pose all that\nyarn means about to-morrow night? And what be we goin' to do about\nit? Dick, he said it was all a game to get hold of us somehow, and he\nwasn't goin' to have nothin' to do with it.\"\n\nHad Stephen Crowley desired exceedingly to secure Dirk's vote in\nfavour of the proposed entertainment, he could not, at that moment,\nhave chosen a better way. Dirk tossed his thick mat of black hair in a\ndefiant fashion, and answered:\u2014\n\n\"He needn't have a thing to do with it, so far as I care. I don't know\nwho'll miss him; but if he thinks he's got all the fellows under his\nthumb, and they're goin' to do as he says, I'll show him a thing or\ntwo. I'm a-goin' to-morrow night. I don't care what it is, nor what\nit is for. She was nice and friendly to us to-day, and I'm willin' to\ntrust her to-morrow. I shall go up there and see what she does want. It\ncan't kill a fellow to do that much.\"\n\n\"Then I'm a-goin', too,\" declared Stephen with decision. \"Dick, he\nthinks there won't none of us go if he don't; and I'd just like to show\nhim that he must get up early in the mornin' if he wants to keep track\nof us.\"\n\nIf Dirk Colson needed anything to strengthen his resolution, there\nwas material in that last sentence which supplied it. He had long\nchafed under the control of Dick Bolton; here was a chance to assert\nsuperiority. He even, just at that moment, conceived the brilliant idea\nof supplanting Dick\u2014running an opposition party, as it were.\n\nWhat if he should get every fellow in the class to promise to go, and\nDick, the acknowledged leader, should find himself left out alone in\nthe cold? The thought actually made his grim face break into a smile.\nThus it came to pass that the most efficient worker for the success\nof the Monday evening entertainment, so far at least as securing the\npresence of the guests, was Dirk Colson.\n\n\nIn Mr. Roberts's mansion preparations for receiving and entertaining\nthe hoped-for guests went briskly forward\u2014preparations which astonished\nthe young guest already arrived.\n\n\"Are you really going to let them come in here?\" she asked, as she\nfollowed Mrs. Roberts through the elegant parlours, and watched her\nputting delicate touches here and there.\n\n\"Certainly; why not? Don't you open your parlours when you receive your\nfriends?\"\n\n\"I don't think we have such peculiar friends on our list,\" Gracie said\nwith a little laugh; and then, \"Flossy, they will spoil your furniture.\"\n\n\"If one evening in the Master's service will spoil anything, it surely\nought to be spoiled,\" Mrs. Roberts answered serenely.\n\n\"But, Flossy,\u2014\" with a touch of impatience in her voice,\u2014\"what is the\nuse? Wouldn't the dining-room answer every purpose\u2014be to them the most\nelegant room they ever beheld, and be less likely to suffer from their\ncontact?\"\n\nThe busy little mistress of all the beauty around her turned to her\nguest with a peculiar smile on her face, half mischievous and wholly\nsweet, as she said:\u2014\n\n\"I want them to get used to parlours, my dear; they may have much to do\nwith them, as well as with dining-rooms.\"\n\n\"They are more likely to have to do with penitentiaries and prisons,\"\nGracie said. But she abandoned discussion, and gave herself to the\npleasure of arranging lovely flowers in their lovely vases.\n\nThere was a divided house as to the probability of the guests\nappearing,\u2014Mr. Roberts inclining to the belief that some of them would\ncome, while Gracie was entirely sceptical. Mrs. Roberts kept her own\ncounsel, neither expressing wish nor fear, but steadily pushing her\npreparations.\n\n\nAs a matter of fact, the entire seven appeared together promptly as the\nclock struck eight.\n\nAt the last moment Dick Bolton, the usual leader, finding himself\nin a minority of one, not to be outwitted, protested that he had\nnot the least notion of staying away; of course he was going, and\ngood-naturedly joined the group.\n\nI wonder if you have the least conception of how those boys looked? The\nideas of some people cannot get below nicely-patched clothes, carefully\nbrushed boots, clean collars, and neatly arranged hair.\n\nClean collars! Not a boy of them owned a collar. No thought of brushing\ntheir worn-out, unmended boots ever entered their minds. Their clothes\nwere much patched, but in many places needed it still.\n\nStephen Crowley had made a somewhat unsuccessful attempt to put his\nmass of hair in order. Most of the others had not thought even of that.\nWhy should they? Poor Dirk, you will remember, if he had thought of it,\nhad no comb with which to experiment. It is doubtful if many of the\nothers were any better off in this respect.\n\nImagine the seven standing, a confused, grinning heap, in the centre of\nMrs. Roberts's large and brilliantly-lighted hall!\n\nShe came forward to welcome them, shaking hands, though they made no\nattempt to offer a hand in greeting. She had to grasp after each. She\nessayed to introduce Gracie; not one of them attempted a bow.\n\n\"Come this way,\" Mrs. Roberts said, \"and take seats.\"\n\nThen she led the way into the long, bright, elegantly-furnished,\nflower-decked room.\n\nThey followed her in a row. Midway in the room they made a halt.\nThey caught a view of themselves\u2014full length at that\u2014revealed by the\ngreat mirrors. They had never seen themselves set in contrast before.\nThey could not sit in a row, for the easy-chairs and sofas, though\nplentiful, had the air of having been just vacated by people who had\nleft them carelessly where they had chanced to sit.\n\nIt required diplomacy to seat those boys. When at last Stephen Crowley\ndropped into one of the great pillowy chairs, he Instantly sprang up\nagain, and looked at it doubtfully. Was the thing a trap? How far down\nwould it sink with him? This was too much for Nimble Dick, even under\nthe present overpowering circumstances\u2014he laughed. His hostess blessed\nhim for that laugh. The horrible stiffness was somewhat broken, and all\nwere seated.\n\nJust at that moment came Alfred Reid, hurriedly, like one who had\nintended promptness and missed it.\n\n\"All here ahead of me!\" he exclaimed. \"Mrs. Roberts, I beg your pardon.\nAt the last moment I went in search of Dr. Everett; there was serious\nillness in a house next door, and I happened to know just where he was.\"\n\nDuring this address he was shaking hands with his hostess, his manner\neasy and graceful, as one used to it all. Then he crossed the room,\nthat wonderful room, treading down those flowers on the carpet as\nthough he had no fears of breaking their stems.\n\n\"Good-evening, Miss Dennis,\" he said, and he was bowing in a manner\nthat Dirk Colson was confident he could imitate. Then he turned to the\nboys, shaking hands:\u2014\n\n\"How are you, Haskell?\u2014By the way, Crowley, I called on you to-day at\nthe office; sorry not to find you in.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, allow me!\" And he wheeled one of the easy-chairs to the\nspot where that lady was standing.\n\n\"How well he enters into the thing,\" said Gracie Dennis to herself,\nlooking on in admiration at this young man, who, still so young, was\nadapting himself to circumstances that might well have embarrassed\nolder heads than his.\n\nHe plunged into talk with the boys, making them answer questions. He\nhad come but a few moments before from Mark Calkins's, stopped there\nwith a message from Dr. Everett; and these boys knew Mark and Sallie\nand the worthless father, and all the more or less worthless neighbours\nwho ran in and out, and young Reid had a dozen questions to ask.\nHis quick-wittedness, and the ease with which he made talk to these\nyoung men who lived in such an utterly different world from himself,\nsurprised his hostess very much.\n\nEven she did not know to what an exalted pitch his enthusiasm and\nexcitement reached, though he had flashed a pair of most appreciative\neyes on her when she gave him her invitation for the evening. Here was\nactually his sister Esther's darling scheme being worked out before his\neyes!\n\nNot only that, but he was being called upon to help. Esther had wanted\nhim to grow up to undertake just such efforts as these; and only\nlast week they had seemed to him so altogether good and noble and so\nimpossible to try. Yet here he was helping to try them! No wonder\nAlfred Reid could talk.\n\nIt had been determined in family council that Mr. Roberts must absent\nhimself. He was in the house, indeed\u2014no further away than the library,\nready for call in event of an emergency; but it was judged that another\nstranger, and such a formidable one as the head of the house, must be\navoided for this one evening.\n\nAs for Mr. Reid, would they remember that he was not much older than\nsome of them, and that he was not a rich young man living on his\nincome, but was earning his living by daily work? And would they note\nthe contrast between themselves and him? This was what their hostess\nwondered. A few moments and then came a summons to the dining-room.\nSeated at last, though one of the poor fellows stumbled over a chair,\nand barely saved himself from falling.\n\nIf you could have seen that dining-table, the picture of it would\nhave lingered long in your memory. The whitest and finest of damask\ntable linen; napkins so large that they almost justified Dick Bolton's\nwhisper, \"What be you goin' to do with your sheet?\" China so delicate\nthat Gracie Dennis could not restrain an inward shiver when any of the\nclumsy fingers touched a bit of it; and such a glitter of silver as\neven Gracie had never seen before.\n\nOne thing was different from the conventional tea-party\u2014every servant\nwas banished; none but tender eyes, interested in her experiment,\nand ready to help it on, should witness the blunders of the boys. So\nthe hostess had decreed, and so instructed Alfred and Gracie. The\nconsequence was that Alfred himself served the steaming oysters with\nliberal hand, and Gracie presided over jellies and sauces, while\nMrs. Roberts sugared and creamed and poured cups of such coffee as\nthose fellows had never even smelled before. If you think they were\nembarrassed to the degree that they could not eat, you are mistaken.\n\nThey were street boys; their lives had been spent in a hardening\natmosphere. Directly the first sense of novelty passed away, and their\npoorly-fed stomachs craved the unusual fare served up for them, the\nfellows grinned at one another, seized their silver spoons, and dived\ninto the stews in a fashion that would have horrified every servant in\nthe house.\n\nHow they ate! Oysters and coffee and pickles and cakes and jellies!\nThere seemed no limit to their capacities; neither did they make the\nslightest attempt to correct their table manners. None of them paid any\noutward attention to their \"sheets,\" although Alfred and Gracie spread\ntheirs with elaborate care; they leaned their elbows on the table; they\nmade loud, swooping sounds with their lips; and, in short, transgressed\nevery law known to civilized life. Why not? What did they know about\ncivilized life?\n\nNevertheless, not one movement of young Reid's escaped the notice of\nsome of them.\n\nHe tried still to carry on a conversation, though the business of\neating was being too closely attended to on all sides to let him be\nvery successful.\n\nGracie studied him, and was not only interested in his efforts, but\nroused to make some attempts herself. What could she talk about with\nsuch people? School? The literary club? The last concert? The course\nof lectures? The last new book that everybody was reading? No, not\neverybody; assuredly not these seven.\n\nOn what ground was she to meet them?\n\nYet talk she must and would. Mr. Reid should see that she at least\nwanted to help.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\"LET US BE FASHIONABLE.\"\n\nONE feature of the hour was not only entirely new to the boys, but gave\nthem a curious feeling, the name of which they did not understand.\nWhen the last one sat back in his chair, thereby admitting himself\nvanquished, Mrs. Roberts, looking at the young man who sat at the foot\nof the table, said:\u2014\n\n\"Will you return thanks?\"\n\nWhat did that mean? To be sure they had heard of thanking people, but\neven they were aware that it was an unusual thing for persons to demand\nthanks for themselves.\n\nThey watched. Behold, the young man bowed his head, and these were the\nwords he spoke:\u2014\n\n   \"Dear Saviour, we thank thee for the joys of this evening. We pray thee\nto teach us so to live that we may all meet some day in our Father's\nhouse. Amen.\"\n\nThe boys looked at one another, then looked down at their plates. Their\nsole experience of prayer was connected with the South End Mission. To\nmeet it at a supper-table was a revelation. Did the people who lived\nin grand houses, and had such wonderful things to eat, always pray at\ntheir supper-tables? This was the problem which they were turning over\nin their minds.\n\nReturning to the parlour, Gracie went at once to the piano. She had\nspent a good deal of Monday in settling the question of what to play,\nand had chosen the most sparkling music she could find. I am anxious to\nhave it recorded that, all uncultured as they were, these boys neither\ntalked nor laughed during the music, but appeared at least to listen.\nIt was Dirk Colson who sat nearest to the piano, and who listened in\nthat indescribable way which always flatters a musician.\n\n\"Do you like it?\" Gracie asked, running off the final notes in a tinkle\nof melody.\n\nHis dark face flushed a deep red.\n\n\"I dunno,\" he said with an awkward laugh; \"it's queer-sounding. I don't\nsee how you make so many tinkles. Do you make all your fingers go at\nonce on them black and white things?\"\n\n\"Not quite; but sometimes they have to dance about in a very lively\nfashion. I have to keep my wits at work, I assure you.\"\n\n\"Is it hard to do?\"\n\n\"Not very, nowadays. When I first commenced, the practising was horrid;\nI hated it.\"\n\n\"What made you do it, then?\"\n\n\"Oh, the same reason which makes people do a great many things that\nthey don't like,\" she said lightly; \"I wanted the results. I knew if I\nworked at it steadily, the time would come when I should not only enjoy\nit myself, but be able to give pleasure to other people. Why, don't you\never do things that you don't particularly like?\"\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders, and bestowed on her a very wise look.\n\n\"Often enough,\" he said fiercely, and he thought of his drunken father.\n\"But then I wouldn't if I could help it.\"\n\n\"That would depend on whether you thought the thing would pay in the\nend, would it not?\" Then, without waiting for an answer, she asked,\n\"What is your business?\"\n\n\"My business?\" with a curiously puzzled air.\n\n\"Yes; how do you spend your time?\"\n\n\"Hunting up something to eat,\" he said, with a grim smile, visions of\nhis aimless loafing appearing before him all the only occupation he\ncould be said to have. It had not occurred to him to try to mislead\nher, but she evidently did not understand.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" she said seriously, \"so I suppose. Isn't it queer how busy\nmen and women have to be, day after day, and year after year, just\ngetting themselves and others something to eat? Do you have other\npeople to help to get it for\u2014mother, for instance, and little brothers\nand sisters?\"\n\n\"I've got a mother,\" he said, \"and a sister.\"\n\n\"And that makes work easier, does it not? I always thought it would\nbe stupid to work all the time just for one's self. But I meant, What\ndo you work at in order to get the something to eat\u2014there are so many\ndifferent ways?\"\n\n\"How do you know I work at all?\"\n\nDirk's voice was growing sullen; a consciousness that he would appear\nat a disadvantage in admitting himself an idler in the busy world was\ndawning upon him as an entirely new idea.\n\nAt his question, Gracie turned on her music-stool and regarded him with\nsurprise.\n\n\"Why, of course you work,\" she said; \"people all do.\"\n\nShe was not acting a part. Her experience among poor people was limited\nto that outwardly respectable class who, however disreputable their\nconduct might be on Sabbath, had, nevertheless, a Monday occupation\nwith which they pretended to earn a living.\n\nDirk shrugged his shoulders again.\n\n\"Do they?\" he said.\n\nHer evident ignorance of the world made him good-natured. She was not\ntrying to preach to him, he decided\u2014a thing which Dirk hated in common\nwith all persons of his class.\n\nBut the lull in the music had started conversation in other parts of\nthe room.\n\nDirk heard young Reid's question:\u2014\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, do you know of any young man looking for work? I heard\nof a good situation this afternoon. Oh, there are plenty of applicants\nbut the gentleman is an old friend of my brother-in-law, and I could\nspeak a helpful word for somebody.\"\n\n\"I have no one in mind,\" Mrs. Roberts said, and she glanced eagerly\nat the boys, lounging in various attitudes in her easy-chairs. Only\nthree of them, she knew, made any pretence of earning their living. Did\nAlfred mean one of them?\n\n\"Here is a chance for you, young gentlemen,\" she said lightly; \"who\nbids for a situation?\"\n\n\"What is the place?\"\n\nIt was Dirk Colson who asked the question. Ever since he could\nremember, he was supposed to have been hunting for work, but I am not\nsure that he ever felt quite such a desire to find it as at that moment.\n\n\"It is at Gray's, in Ninth Street, a good chance; but the one who\nsecures it must have a fair knowledge of figures.\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said Dirk, sinking lower in his easy-chair. \"No use in me\nasking about it.\"\n\n\"Are figures your weak point?\" Mrs. Roberts asked, smiling on him. \"I\ncan sympathize with you; I had to work harder over arithmetic than\nat any other study; but I learned to like it. Do you know I think\nit would be a favourite study with you? It is so nice to conquer an\nobstinate-looking row of figures, and fairly oblige the right result to\nappear. What did you find hardest about the study, Mr. Colson?\"\n\nThe others chuckled, but Dirk glowered at them fiercely.\n\n\"There's nothin' to laugh about, as I see,\" he said. \"I didn't find\nnothin' hard, because I never had no chance to try. I never went to\nno school, nor had books, nor nothin'; now that's the truth, and I'm\nblamed if I ain't going own it.\"\n\n\"What a good thing it is that you are young.\" This was her animated\nanswer. \"There is a chance to make up lost time.\u2014Mr. Reid, I have such\na nice idea. I heard you and Dr. Everett speaking of the literary\nclub the other night. Why cannot we have a literary club of our own\u2014a\nreading circle, or something of that sort? Suppose we should meet once\na week and read aloud something interesting, and have talks about it\nafterwards?\u2014Do you ever read aloud?\"\n\nIf Mrs. Roberts in all sincerity had not been one of the most\nsimple-hearted and, in some respects, ignorant little creatures on the\nface of the globe, she could never, with serious face, have addressed\nsuch a question to Nimble Dick.\n\nYoung Reid could not have done it, for he realized the folly of\nsupposing that Nimble Dick ever read anything. By just so much was\nMrs. Roberts ahead of him. She supposed that these boys had their\nliterature, and read it, and perhaps met somewhere on occasion and read\ntogether. This made it possible for her to ask surprising questions\nwith honest face.\n\n\"Bless me!\" said Nimble Dick, startled into an upright posture. \"Oh,\nno, mum, never.\"\n\nAnd even Dirk Colson laughed at the expression on his face.\n\n\"Still I think you would enjoy it, after a little practice, and I can't\nhelp fancying you would make a good reader.\"\n\nThe boys were all laughing now, Nimble Dick with the rest.\n\n\"You're in for an awful blunder there,\" he said, good-naturedly. \"I'm\nlike Black Dirk, never had no chances, and didn't do nothin' worth\nspeakin' of with them that I had. Why, mum! I can't even read to\nmyself. I make the awfullest work you ever heard of spellin' out the\nshow-bills. I have to get Black Dirk to help me; and him and me is a\nteam.\"\n\nBy this time Dirk's face had lost its smile, and his fierce eyes were\nflashing; but the hostess was serene.\n\n\"That doesn't prove anything against my statement. I was speaking of\nwhat could be, not necessarily of what was. Let us have a club. The\nmore I think of the plan the more it pleases me. I'll tell you! The\nword 'club' doesn't quite suit me. Let us be fashionable. Gracie,\ndon't you know how fashionable it is becoming to have 'evenings' set\napart for special occasions?\u2014Mr. Reid, you know Mrs. Judson's 'Tuesday\nevenings,' and Mrs. Symond's 'Friday evenings'? Very well, let us have\nour 'Monday evenings,' in which we will do all sorts of nice things;\nsometimes literary, sometimes musical, and sometimes\u2014well, anything\nthat we please. What do you say, gentlemen; shall we organize? Mr.\nReid, will you give Monday evenings to us?\u2014Gracie, you are my guest,\nand cannot, of course refuse.\"\n\nIt was a novel idea certainly. Even Alfred, while trying to heartily\nsecond her, was in doubt as to what she could hope to accomplish by\nit. As for the boys, not one of them promised to attend; but neither\ndid they refuse. Mrs. Roberts presently left the subject, seeming to\nconsider her point carried, and proposed a visit to the conservatory.\n\nI think it very doubtful whether the boy lives who does not like\nflowers. There are those who seem to consider it a mark of manliness\nto affect indifference to them; but these, as they grow older\u2014become\nreal men\u2014generally lay this bit of folly aside. Then there are those,\nplenty of them, who really do not know that they care for flowers. The\nboys, ushered for the first time in their lives into the full bloom of\na conservatory, were, most of them, of this latter stamp.\n\nWhat a scene of beauty it was! Great white callas, bending their\ngraceful cups; great red and yellow roses, making the air rich with\ntheir breath; vines, and mosses, and ferns, and small flowers, in\nalmost endless variety. Alfred and Gracie moved among the glories, the\nlatter exhausting all her superlatives in honest delight, although she\nhad visited the spot a dozen times that day; and Alfred, who had been\nless favoured, was hardly less eager and responsive than she.\n\nBut Mrs. Roberts watched the boys.\n\nIt was all very well for those two to enjoy her flowers; of course they\nwould. But what language would the silent, lovely things speak to her\nuntutored boys? They said not a word; not one of them. They made no\nexclamations, they had no superlatives at command. But Stephen Crowley\nstooped before a lovely carnation, and smelled, and smelled, drawing in\nlong breaths, as though he meant to take its fragrance all away with\nhim; and Nimble Dick picked up the straying end of an ivy, and restored\nit to its support again, in a way that was not to be lost sight of by\none who was looking for hearts; and Dirk Colson brushed back his matted\nhair and stood long before a great, pure lily, and looked down into its\nheart with an expression on his face that his teacher never forgot.\n\nShe came over to him presently, standing beside him, saying nothing.\nThen at last she reached forth her hand and broke the lily from its\nstalk. He started, almost as if something had struck him.\n\n\"What did you do that for?\" And his voice was fierce.\n\n\"I want you to take this for me to your sister\u2014the girl with beautiful\ngolden hair; I saw her one day, and I shall remember her hair and eyes.\nShe will like this flower, and she will like you to bring it to her.\"\n\n\"Gracie\u2014\" raising her voice\u2014\"gather some flowers, will you, and make\nthem into bouquets? These young gentlemen will like to carry them to\nsome one. There must be mothers at home who will enjoy bouquets brought\nby their sons.\"\n\nOver this gently-spoken sentence Nimble Dick laughed a hard, derisive\nlaugh. It made the blood flow into Black Dirk's indignant face. Even\nAlfred Reid lost self-control for a moment, and flashed a glance at him\nout of angry eyes. How could there be any hope of a boy who sneered at\nhis mother? Yet you need not judge him too harshly.\n\nHe thought of his mother, indeed, when he laughed; but alas, he thought\nof her as drunk. And he knew her scarcely at all, save as that word\ndescribed her. How could \"mother\" mean to him what it meant to Alfred\nReid\u2014what it meant even to Dirk Colson, whose mother, weak indeed in\nbody and spirit, full of complaining words, oftentimes weakly bitter\nwords to him, yet patched his clothes so long as she could get patches\nand thread, and would have washed them if she could have got soap, and\nbeen able to bring the water, and if her only tub hadn't been in pawn?\nOh, yes, there are degrees in mothers.\n\nMrs. Roberts, meantime, broke off blossoms with lavish hand, and made\nbouquets for Nimble Dick and for Dirk. He took the bright-hued ones\nwith a smile, but the lily he held by itself, and still looked at it.\n\nThey went away at last noisily, growing almost if not quite rough\ntowards one another, at least; and directly they were out of the door,\nNimble Dick gave a whoop that would have chilled the blood of nervous\nwomen. But matron and maiden looked at each other and laughed.\n\n\"We have kept them pent-up all the evening, and that is the\nescape-valve being raised to avoid a general explosion.\" This was Mrs.\nRoberts's explanation.\n\nThey were quite alone. Alfred, on being invited in low tones to tarry\nand talk things over, had shaken his head and replied significantly:\u2014\n\n\"Thank you, no; I am one of them, and must stand on the same level.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" Mrs. Roberts said smilingly; \"you must have been an\napt pupil, my friend. That dear sister taught you a great deal.\"\n\nHe held up the bouquet which she had made for him.\n\n\"I am going to put it before Esther's picture,\" he said; \"her work is\ngoing on.\"\n\n\n\"Well,\" said Gracie, \"it is over, and we lived through it. And they\ndid all come. I am amazed over that. And how they did eat! I suppose\nthe next thing is to open all the windows and air out. Flossy Roberts,\nI'm afraid you are going insane. The idea of your inviting that horde\nhere every Monday. What a parlour you would have! And they would breed\na pestilence. They won't come, to be sure; but just imagine it if they\nshould! I really think Mr. Roberts ought to send you home for Dr.\nMitchell to look after. Well, Flossy, what next?\"\n\n\"Next, dear, you must pray. Pray as you never have done before for\nthe souls of these boys, and for the success of my 'Monday evenings.'\nGracie, we are at work for immortal souls. Think of it! They must live\nfor ever. Shall they, through all eternity, keep dropping lower and\nlower, or shall they wear crowns?\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\n\"SOMETHING'S HAPPENED.\"\n\nSALLIE CALKINS sat in a common little rocking-chair and rocked; and\nwhile she rocked she sewed, setting neat stitches in a brown coat which\nwas already patched and darned, and was threadbare in many places.\nThere was a look of deep content on Sallie's face. There were many\nreasons for it.\n\nDr. Everett had that morning pronounced Mark's broken limb to be\nhealing rapidly. He had also reported that Mark's place was to be held\nopen for him by his employers. At this present moment Mark, arrayed in\na clean shirt, was resting on a very white sheet, his head reposing\non a real feather pillow dressed in white and frilled. Over him was\ncarefully spread another of those wonderful sheets, and, to make the\ncrowning glory, a white quilt, warm and soft, tucked him in on every\nside. How could Sallie but rejoice?\n\nAll about the room there had been changes. A neat little table stood\nat the bed-side. It was covered with a white cloth, and a china bowl\nset thereon, with a silver spoon beside it; a delicate goblet and china\npitcher also, both carefully covered with a napkin. Did Mrs. Roberts\nknow how homely Sallie gloried in the thinness of that china and the\nfineness of that napkin? How does it happen that some of the very poor\nseem born with such \u00e6sthetic tastes?\n\nMrs. Roberts had intuitions, and was given to certain acts, concerning\nwhich she could not give to others satisfactory explanations;\ntherefore, she sometimes left china where others would have judged the\nplainest stoneware more prudent and sensible.\n\nA bit of bright carpet was spread at the side of the bed; a fire glowed\nin the neatly-brushed stove; a white muslin curtain hung at the window;\nand the chair in which Sallie rocked and sewed was new and gaily\npainted.\n\nThere were other traces of Mrs. Roberts. You might not have noticed\nthem, but it seemed to Sallie that her fingers had touched everywhere.\nYet the lady herself thought that she had done very little. She had\nheld her inclinations in check with severe judgment.\n\nThe door opened softly, and a mass of golden hair, from out of which\npeered great eyes, peeped cautiously in.\n\n\"Alone?\" it said, nodding first toward the figure on the bed, and\nintimating that she was aware of Mark's presence, and did not mean him.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Sallie; \"come in. Mark's asleep, but you won't disturb him.\nHe don't disturb easy; he sleeps just like a baby since the doctor\nstopped that pain in his knee. There's my new chair; just try it, and\nsee how nice it is.\"\n\nSaying which, she got herself out of the little rocker in haste, and\npushed it toward her guest, meantime taking a plain wooden chair, also\nnew, and adding, \"Did you hear of anybody like her before?\"\n\n\"Something's happened,\" said Mart Colson, ignoring the reference to the\nmysterious pronoun\u2014her voice so full of a new and strange meaning, that\nhad Sallie been acquainted with the word she might have said it was\nfilled with awe.\n\nAs it was, she only exclaimed, \"What?\" in an intensely interested tone.\n\n\"Why, look here! I brought it along to show you.\"\n\nWhereupon she produced from under her piece of torn shawl a large\nbroken-nosed pitcher, a piece of brown paper carefully tied over the\ntop. She untied the bit of calico string with fingers that shook from\nexcitement.\n\n\"Look in there!\" she exclaimed at last, triumph in her tone, reaching\nforward the pitcher.\n\nSallie looked, and drew in her breath with a long, expressive \"O\u2014h!\"\n\nThere, reposing in stately beauty, lay the great white lily with its\ngolden bell.\n\n\"Yes, I should think so,\" Mart said, satisfied with the expression.\n\"Did you ever see anything like that before? It ain't made of wax, nor\nanything else that folks ever made. It's alive. I felt of it. It looks\nlike velvet and satin and all them lovely store things; but it doesn't\nfeel so: it feels alive, and it grew. But, Sallie Calkins, if you\nshould live a hundred years, and guess all the time, you never could\nguess where I got it. Sallie Calkins, if you'll believe it, Dirk gave\nit to me!\"\n\n\"Dirk?\"\n\n\"Yes, he did!\"\n\nWho would have supposed Mart Colson's voice capable of such a\ntriumphant ring!\n\n[Illustration: THE LILY.]\n\n\"You see the way of it was: last night he didn't come for his supper\nat all, and that always scares me dreadful. I'm expecting something\nto happen, you know. Father, he didn't come either; for the matter of\nthat, he hasn't come yet. And mother, she was awful tired, and hadn't\nhad no dinner to speak of, and she just broke down and took on awful.\nMother don't often cry; and it's good she don't, for she just goes into\nit with all her might when the time comes. It wasn't about father\u2014she's\nused to him, you know, and don't expect nothing else; but Dirk drives\nher wild with what may happen to him. I was worried about him too, but\nI was mad at him; it seemed too awful mean in him to stay away and\nscare mother. At last I got her to go to bed, and she was all tuckered\nout and went to sleep.\n\n\"Then I wrapped myself in the quilt and sat down to wait; but I got\nasleep, and I dreamed I saw 'her.' She had wings to each side of her,\nand she flew over the tops of all these houses, and made them turn\nwhite like the snow looks when it is coming down before it drops into\nthe gutters. Wasn't that queer? Well, some noise woke me up. I was\nsitting flat on the floor by mother, and I sat up straight all of a\ntremble. And there was the old stool, and the brown pitcher on it\nhalf-full of water; and this wonderful thing stood in it looking at me.\nAnd Dirk, he stood off the other side looking at it.\n\n\"'It's for you, and she sent it.' That's what he said to me; and I\nwasn't real wide awake, you know. I suppose that's what made his voice\nsound so queer.\n\n\"And what do you think I said? I was thinking of my dream, and says\nI,\u2014'Did she have her wings on?'\n\n\"Then Dirk made a queer noise; it was a laugh, but it sounded most like\na cry.\n\n\"'I guess so,' says he. And then he turned and went off to bed.\n\n\"And I can't get any more out of him; he is as snarly when I ask any\nquestions as though he was mad about it all. If it hadn't been for\nthis great white thing, I might have thought this morning that it all\nbelonged to the dream. But Dirk brought this home from somewhere, and\nput it in the pitcher, and gave it to me his own self; that's sure.\"\n\nThe story closed in triumph.\n\n\"It is beautiful!\" said Sallie, the brown jacket slipping to the floor,\nwhile she bent over the lily. \"It is beautiful all of it, and it looks\njust like her, and sounds like her, wings and all. Of course she sent\nit.\"\n\n\"And Dirk brought it!\" That part of the story Mart Colson did not\nforget.\n\nSometimes it seems to me a pity that hearts are not laid bare to the\ngaze of others. What, for instance, might not this little incident have\ndone for Dirk Colson had he known how the starved heart of his sister\nfed on the thought that he brought her the flower?\n\nStill, on the other hand, I don't know what the effect would have been\non Mart had she known what a tremendous amount of courage it had taken\nto present the flower to her. A dozen times on the way home had Dirk\nbeen on the point of consigning it to the gutter. \"He\" carry home a\nflower! If it had been a loaf of bread, he thought it would have been\nmore consistent. Some way he recognized a fine sarcasm in the thought\nthat he, who had never in his life contributed towards the necessities\nof the family should carry to that dreary home a flower!\n\nYet the fair lily did its work well during that long walk from East\nFifty-fifth Street to the shadow of the alley. It made Dirk Colson tell\nit fiercely that he hated himself; that he was a brute and a loafer\u2014a\nblot on the earth, and ought not to live. Why didn't he go to work? Why\ndidn't he have things to bring home to Mart every little while, as Mark\nCalkins did to Sallie? Hadn't he seen Mark, only a few evenings before\nhe was hurt, with a pair of girl's shoes strung over his shoulder, and\nheard him whistle as he ran, two steps at a time, up the rickety stairs?\n\nWhat would Mart think if he should bring her home a pair of shoes?\nWhat would she think of his bringing her a flower? She would sneer, of\ncourse; and, in the mood which then possessed him, Dirk said angrily\nthat she had a right to sneer, and would be a fool not to; and yet he\nhated the thought of it. There was nothing in life that Dirk hated more\nthan sneers; and he had been fed on them ever since he could remember.\n\nHe was altogether unprepared for the reception which the lily received.\nThat suggestion about wings, which seemed so apt, had brought the\n\"queer\" sound to his voice that Mart had noticed. If only she had\nunderstood and not spoiled, next morning, the effect of her words!\n\n\nIn the prosaic daylight, the illusion of \"wings\" being banished, she\nwas bent on knowing how Dirk came into possession of the lily.\n\n\"Who sent it, Dirk? I don't believe anybody told you to give it to me.\nWho would care about my having a flower? Where did you get it?\"\n\n\"Where do you s'pose?\" Dirk's voice was ominously gruff.\n\nIt is a painful truth that by daylight he was ashamed of his part of\nthe transaction.\n\n\"I told you she sent it. It's noways likely that I'd take the trouble\nto make up a lie about that weed. How do I know what she wanted you to\nhave it for? Maybe she thought it matched your looks.\"\n\nThere was a bitter sneer in Dirk's voice; yet all the time he heard the\nsweet, low voice saying, \"That girl with the beautiful golden hair.\"\nSuppose he should tell Mart that? Why not? Let me tell you that Dirk\nColson would not have repeated that sentence for the world! And yet he\ndid not know why.\n\nMart's face burned red under his sneer.\n\n\"How am I to know who 'she' is?\" she said in bitter scorn. \"Some of\nyour bar-room beauties, for whom you dance and whistle, I suppose. You\ncan tell her I would rather have my shawl out of pawn, or some shoes\nfor my feet, enough sight. What do I care for a great flower mocking at\nme.\"\n\n\"Pitch it into the fire, then; and it will be many a long day before I\nbring you anything else,\" said Dirk, pushing himself angrily back from\nthe table, where he had been eating bread dipped in choice pork fat.\n\n\"There isn't a bit of danger of my doing that,\" she called after him\nmockingly. \"There isn't a spunk of fire, nor likely to be to-day,\nunless some of your admirers send me a shovel of coal. Mercy knows, I\nwish they would.\"\n\nHe mercifully lost part of this sentence, for the reason that before it\nwas concluded, he was moving with long, angry strides up the alley.\n\nAnd then Mart took the broken-nosed pitcher away into the farthermost\ncorner, although she was alone in the room, and laid her face against\nthe cool, pure lily, and wept into it great burning tears. Poor,\nignorant soul! She wanted\u2014oh how she \"wanted\"!\u2014Dirk to be brave and\ngood like Mark Calkins, her one type of manhood. Yet she did not know\nthat she was crushing out the germ which might have grown in his heart.\nTrue, she knew herself to be very different from Sallie; but she\nthought, poor soul that that was because Mark was so different from\nDirk.\n\nIsn't it a pity that the sweet-faced lily could not have told its\ntender story to both these ignorant ones?\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\n\"WHAT MADE HER DIFFERENT?\"\n\n\"I HAVE heard a good deal about your sister that has interested me. Do\nyou like to talk of her?\"\n\nThis was the question which Gracie Dennis asked of young Reid as he\nstood beside her at the piano. She had been playing, and he had come\nto the music alcove for the purpose of turning her music; but now she\nwas touching sweet chords here and there aimlessly, and waiting for his\nanswer.\n\nAt the farther end of the parlour Mrs. Roberts was entertaining a\ncaller; but the distance between them was so great that in effect the\nyoung people were alone.\n\n\"I like nothing better than to talk of her,\" Mr. Reid said with\nanimation; \"but I don't know so much about her as I wish I did. She\nwent away when I was quite young. I used to say 'she died,' but since\nI have awakened to see her cherished plans being carried on all around\nme, I cannot think of her as dead.\"\n\n\"That is what I want to talk about\u2014her work, or her plans for work.\nWhat made her so different from other people, Mr. Reid? Wasn't she\ndifferent?\"\n\nThe young man regarded the question thoughtfully before answering.\n\n\"Not from all the people,\" he said at last, \"but certainly very\ndifferent from some. I used to think that all Christians were like her,\nof course; then, when I saw my mistake, I went to the other extreme,\nand thought there were none like her on earth. I have discovered that\nthe medium position is the correct one.\"\n\n\"But what I want to know is, what made her different? It wasn't her\nage. Mrs. Roberts thinks she was young.\"\n\n\"She was hardly nineteen when she died. Oh no, it wasn't age; she\ntold me that she used to be very different. She was a Christian from\nchildhood, but she said that she was ashamed to claim the name. There\nwas nothing Christ-like about her; still she was a member of the\nChurch. As I remember her, and as I look at other people, my judgment\nis, that in her early Christian life she was much like most of the\nChristians with whom you and I are familiar.\"\n\n\"And what made her different? Was it\u2014that is\u2014do you think it was\nbecause she was to die so soon that she had a special experience?\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" he said promptly; \"it was before she realized anything\nabout her condition that the great change took place in her. My\nbrother-in-law says that she supposed herself to be in perfect health\nat the time when she was most marked in her Christian life.\"\n\n\"Ah! But you don't understand; I mean more than that. It is difficult\nto tell what I mean; I mean\u2014but you know, of course, God knew that she\nwas soon to go to heaven. I thought, perhaps, he gave her a special\nexperience on that account.\"\n\n\"No, oh no,\" he said, speaking with great earnestness. \"Esther was\nparticularly anxious that no one should suppose her experience\nexceptional. Little fellow though I was, it seemed to be her desire\nthat I should fully understand this.\n\n\"'Don't let anybody make you think that because you are a little boy,\nyou must be a sort of half-way Christian,' she used to say, and her\neyes would glow with feeling. 'I tried that way for years,' she said,\n'and I want you to understand that it is not only sinful, but there is\nnot a particle of happiness to be gotten out of it\u2014not a particle; and\nI would give almost nothing for what such a Christian can accomplish.\nThe harm one does, more than overbalances all effort for Christ.'\n\n\"I think, perhaps, she felt more deeply on that than on almost any\nsubject; and it was because she thought had wasted so many years.\"\n\n\"Then do you think that there is, or rather that there should be, no\ndifference in Christians? Have all the same work to do?\"\n\n\"Not that, quite, of course; or, I don't know either. Isn't it all\ndifferent forms of the Master's work. The children of the home may\nhave each a different task, but each is needed to make the home\nwhat it should be, and each worker needs the same spirit of love\nand unselfishness to enable him to do his part. It isn't a perfect\nillustration, Miss Dennis. I'm not skilful in that direction, but I\nknow what I mean, and that is a comfort.\"\n\n\"And I know what you mean,\" Gracie said, not joining in his laugh; \"but\nI am not sure that I believe it. Why, Mr. Reid, that would make a very\nsolemn thing of living.\"\n\n\"Well, did you suppose it was other than solemn? I'm sure it makes a\ntriumphant thing of it, too; and without it we are only a lot of wax\nfigures, dancing to pass the time away.\"\n\n\"But don't you really think that people have a right to have any nice\ntimes?\"\n\n\"Miss Dennis, did you ever see any person who had nicer times than your\nfriend, Mrs. Roberts?\"\n\n\"Well, Flossy is peculiar; her tastes all seem to lie in this\ndirection, though once they did not, I admit. Papa used to think that\nshe had no talent for anything but dancing. Something changed Flossy's\nentire character. No one who knew her two years ago could possibly deny\nthat.\"\n\n\"She will serve as an illustration then to explain my meaning. I\nbelieve, Miss Dennis, that religion should have sufficient power over\nus to change all our tastes and plans in life, fitting them to the\nSaviour's use.\"\n\n\"But what would such a rule as that do with most of the Christians of\nyour acquaintance?\"\n\n\"Ah! I am old and experienced enough to warn you not to make shipwreck\nof your happiness on that shoal. I hovered around it, and vexed my soul\nover the whole bewildering question, until I suddenly discovered that I\nwas held absolutely responsible only for my own soul, and that the Lord\nwould look after his own.\"\n\nFor a time there was no answer to this. Gracie let her fingers wander\nwith apparent aimlessness over the keys, drawing out soft sweet\nstrains. Suddenly she said:\u2014\n\n\"What do you expect Flossy will accomplish with that last scheme of\nhers? I ought to beg her pardon for the familiar name, but I have known\nher ever since I was a child. Don't you think her attempts for those\nboys rather hopeless?\"\n\nInstantly the young man's eyes filled with tears, and when he spoke his\nvoice indicated deep emotion.\n\n\"I can hardly tell you how I feel about those boys. I have been anxious\nfor them so long, and felt so hopeless. Do you remember how Elijah\nsat under a juniper tree, discouraged, and said that he was the only\none who had not bowed the knee to Baal; and the Lord told him he was\nmistaken\u2014that there were five thousand others? It sounds ridiculously\negotistical, but I have felt at times something like that, as though I\nwas the only one who cared whether the poor fellows went to destruction\nor not.\n\n\"But since I have met Mrs. Roberts, and seen how intense she is and\nsingle-hearted, and since through her I have met Dr. Everett, and\nseen how they are trying to work at the same problem; and since I\nhave come to know how Mr. Roberts is at work all the time for young\nmen; and above all, since that wonderful evening here last Monday,\nwhen I saw how two gifted ladies understood the art of turning their\naccomplishments to account, in order to take those poor fellows captive\nfor Christ, I discovered that there were ways of solving this problem\nabout which I had known nothing, and people to carry it through. It was\nsimply glorious in you to give those fellows such music as you did, and\nto accomplish by it what you did. My life has been narrow, Miss Dennis;\nI never saw the piano used for Christ before.\"\n\nGracie looked down at the keys, her face aglow. It was a new\nexperience, this being classed among the Christian workers of the\nworld\u2014making her music for other purposes than to amuse the gay friends\nwho chanced to gather around her. She made the keys speak loudly for a\nfew minutes, then softening them, said,\u2014\n\n\"You must not class me with Flossy, Mr. Reid. I only did what she\nwanted done. I am not in the least like her, unselfish and gentle, and\nall that.\"\n\nBut his reply, spoken low, was pleasant to her ears:\u2014\n\n   \"'By their fruits ye shall know them.'\"\n\nHe evidently looked upon her as a worker. She could not help feeling\nthat it was pleasant to be so classed. What an intense young man he\nwas! Not in the least like those with whom she had hitherto been most\nfamiliar.\n\nThere was another voice in the front parlour, a strong, vigorous voice,\nthat carried a sense of power with it.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Reid, his eyes bright, his face eager. \"That is Dr. Everett.\nJust study him if you want another type of the sort of Christian about\nwhom we have been talking\u2014the grandest man!\"\n\nGracie, shielded by the distance, turned on her stool and studied him.\nCertainly he did not look much as though he were appointed for early\ndeath. What a splendid physique it was!\n\nAnd how thoroughly wide awake and interested he was in the subject\nunder discussion. Bits of the talk floated back to the two at the piano.\n\n\"Oh, he is young,\" Dr. Everett was saying; \"I hope for returned vigour\nin time, but there must be long weeks of patience, before he will be\nready for his old employment.\"\n\n\"Do you know of whom he is speaking?\" Gracie asked.\n\n\"I fancy it is that Calkins boy, the one with the broken limb. He is\ndeeply interested in the poor fellow, and is trying to plan employment\nof some less wearing sort for him, I believe. Dr. Everett is always\nintensely interested in somebody.\"\n\n\"Is it always the very poor?\"\n\nAlfred laughed.\n\n\"Not always. I know several quite well-to-do fellows on whom he keeps\na careful oversight; but he is grandly interested in the poor. He is\ntaking rank as one of the most successful physicians in the city, and\nof course he is pressed for time; yet he is so continually at the\ncall of the poor, that people begin to speak of him as the poor man's\ndoctor. He told me he was proud of that title.\"\n\nAt this point the musicians were appealed to, to come to the front\nparlour, and Gracie had opportunity for a nearer study of the man\nwhom she could not help but admire. He was not likely to suffer from\na nearer view\u2014at least, not while Gracie was in the mood that then\npossessed her. He greeted her cordially, and at once brought her into\nthe conversation by appealing to her for a decision, seeming to take it\nfor granted that she was of the same spirit with himself.\n\nThis young lady was taking lessons of life that were designed to be\nhelpful to her if she would but let them. A thoroughly well-educated\nand cultured gentleman, well fitted to take high rank in society, not\nin the ministry, and yet thoroughly absorbed in what she had hitherto\nalmost unconsciously set down as minister's work, was a mystery to her.\nMoreover, for the second time that evening, she felt a curious sense\nof satisfaction in being classed among the energetic workers of the\nworld. The pretty school-girl, who had lived all her young life in a\nneighbourhood where she was \"Gracie Dennis,\" looked up to, indeed, by\nher set, and having a decided influence of her own, yet felt it to be\na novel experience to hear herself addressed in a clear, firm voice,\nafter this manner:\u2014\n\n\"Miss Dennis, what means would you advise for interesting a company of\nyoung girls in reading regularly books which would be of use to them?\nOf course, I speak of a class of girls who have done no reading of any\naccount heretofore: and who have no knowledge in the matter.\"\n\n\"It is something about which I have not thought at all,\" said Gracie,\nher pretty face all in a flush. \"But I should suppose the way would be\nto take one girl at a time, and study her, to find what would be likely\nto interest and help her, and also to get such an influence over her\nthat she would read what I wanted her to.\"\n\n\"First catch your hare, eh? Good!\" said the doctor, with an approving\nglance towards Mrs. Roberts. \"The longer I live, the more convinced am\nI that individual effort is what accomplishes the great things in this\nworld.\"\n\nThere was more talk about this and kindred matters; and Gracie found\nherself drawn out, and her interest excited on themes about which she\nhad supposed she knew nothing.\n\nThen occurred an interruption\u2014a ringing of the doorbell.\n\n\"For Miss Dennis,\" said the messenger; but she handed the card to Mrs.\nRoberts.\n\nThere was just a moment of hesitation, while that lady apparently\nstudied the name; then she said composedly,\u2014\n\n\"This is Professor Ellis, Gracie. Do you wish to receive him this\nevening?\"\n\nSince I have known Mrs. Roberts well, I have studied her innocently\nsincere manner, with not a little curiosity as to the probable effect\non the world, suppose it were possible for others to adopt her\nmethod. The actual practical effect with her is that she succeeds\noften in wisely deceiving, while intending to be perfectly sincere.\nFor instance, her question to Gracie, after a moment of hesitation,\nduring which she asked herself, \"What ought I to do?\" and immediately\nanswered herself, \"There is nothing for me to do but to be perfectly\nstraightforward.\"\n\nHer question was intended to say to Gracie: \"I trust you. What your\nfather has directed you to do, I feel sure you will obey.\"\n\nBut it said different things from that to Gracie. Ever since she had\nbeen told that she might make her old acquaintance, Flossy, a visit,\nthis highly strung young lady had been suspicious that this was a\ndevice of her stepmother to get pleasantly rid of her for a few weeks.\nShe surmised that a very carefully elaborate account of her sins had\nbeen written out by this same stepmother for the benefit of her young\nhostess, and that special directions had been given for guarding her\nfrom the wolf, Professor Ellis. She would have spoiled the entire\nscheme by haughtily refusing to leave home, had not the innocent\ndelight of a young girl over the thought of visiting a beautiful\nstrange city gotten the better of her pride. The gently-put question of\nher hostess disarmed a whole nest of suspicions. It was hardly possible\nthat it had been hinted to Flossy that her guest might attempt to elope\nwith this man, else she would not with serene face be asking whether it\nwas her wish to receive him.\n\n\"If you please,\" she made haste to answer, her cheeks glowing the while\nand Mrs. Roberts gave instant direction that the gentleman be shown\ninto the parlour.\n\nThere were several new lessons set for Miss Gracie Dennis to learn that\nevening. One was that Professor Ellis, with his faultless dress and\nexcessive politeness, his finished bows and smiles that would have done\ncredit to any ball-room in the land, his accurate knowledge of all the\nprinted rules of etiquette, yet in Mrs. Roberts's parlour, contrasted\nwith Dr. Everett, and even with young Reid, the dry-goods clerk,\nappeared at a disadvantage.\n\nShe was slow in learning the lesson; on that first evening she simply\nstared at it in bewilderment. What did it mean?\n\nThere was an attempt to draw the professor into the circle, to continue\nthe conversation that had been so animated and interesting before\nhis entrance. The effect was much like that produced in striking a\ndiscordant note in a hitherto faultless piece of music. Young men out\nof business needing help, needing an encouraging word, an outstretched\nhand! Professor Ellis had words, and hands, but he might have been\nwithout either for all the help they gave him in responding to efforts\nlike these. Books to help to uplift the young, to give them high ideas\nof life, to enthuse them with desires to live for a purpose\u2014truly he\ncould only stare blankly at the suggestion. What did he know of books\nwritten for such purposes?\n\nYet Gracie had supposed him to be literary in his tastes and pursuits.\nCertainly, he read French. Yes, French novels! He was quite familiar\nwith some of such a character that, had Gracie been French scholar\nand ever likely to come in contact with a copy of them, he would not\nhave dared to mention their names in her presence. More than once of\nlate had the stepmother wished that her young daughter understood the\nlanguage well enough to be aware that the man whom she admired used\nfrequently smooth-sounding French oaths. But alas for Gracie, when he\nhad so poisoned her mother's influence over this dangerously pretty\ngirl, that she would have believed his word at any time rather than\nthat mother's!\n\nWell, he read other than French novels; Charles Reade, for instance,\nand some of the more recent authors fashionable in certain circles.\nIt is true that Gracie was not acquainted with them, that her father\nwould not allow a copy of their books to come freely into his home, and\nGracie was much too honourable to read them in private. But it is also\ntrue that while professing to admire this trait in her, as charming in\na young daughter, the professor had also, pityingly and gently, told\nthis young daughter that these things were her father's concessions to\nthe narrow age and trammelled profession to which he belonged; that the\nfact was, free thought was discouraged, because there was that in every\nChurch which would not bear its light; that her wise father was one of\na hundred in recognizing this, and trying to shield her while she was\nyoung.\n\nYou are also to remember that she was young, and therefore forgive her\nthat she did not detect the contradictory sophistry in the professor's\nwords. He really understood how to sugar-coat poison as well as any man\nof his stamp could.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\"HERE WAS HIS OPPORTUNITY.\"\n\nBUT the question which would keep forcing itself an Gracie Dennis was\nthis: \"If he really knows of nice books, full of 'the beautiful' and\n'the ennobling,' that would enlighten the race, as he has often told\nme, why doesn't he mention some of them now? There is no minister here\n'trammelled by long years of narrowing education.' How does he know but\nthat these people are as advanced in their ideas as he is himself?\"\n\nI do not mean that she was conscious of thinking these thoughts, but\nthat they hovered on the edge, as it were, of her mind, making her feel\nill at ease.\n\nDr. Everett, on his part, seemed courteously bent on securing an\nexpression of the professor's opinion about matters of which he either\ncould not or would not talk. When at last the disturbed gentleman\nresolved to violate what Gracie was a law of good breeding, and\naddress her in French, what with her embarrassment lest others should\nunderstand, and her own marked ignorance of the language, she found\ngreat difficulty in making a free translation.\n\n\"Upon my word, I wish you understood French or some other tongue, so\nthat we could escape from this boredom. Does the poor little prisoner\nhave much of this to endure? Cannot we escape to the music-room and\ntalk things over?\"\n\nGracie cast a frightened glance about her to see if there were others\nwho understood better than herself this sentence, which, for aught she\nknew, might contain something startling. But Alfred was busily engaged\nin looking up the name of a book which he had vainly tried to recall,\nand Dr. Everett was apparently serenely oblivious to any language but\nhis mother-tongue.\n\nVery soon after this Gracie managed to escape with her caller to the\nmusic alcove: thus much of the French she had understood; and, at\nleast, Professor Ellis could play, which fact she resolved that the\npeople in the front parlour should speedily understand. Ah, but he\ncould play, and herein lay one of his strong fascinations for the\nmusic-loving girl. For a time the most ravishing strains rolled through\nthe parlour, hushing into rapt attention the group gathered there, who\nhad just been reinforced by the coming of Mr. Roberts. By degrees the\nstrains grew fainter and fainter, and at last ceased altogether, as the\nprofessor, still on the music-stool, bent over Gracie seated in a low\nchair, and apparently found fluent speech at last.\n\nMrs. Roberts, meantime, was ill at ease. What would Dr. Dennis and\nMarion say, could they have a peep at this moment into her back\nparlour? Was she being faithful to her trust? Yet what was there she\ncould do? She tried to sustain her part in the conversation; but her\ntroubled gaze, constantly wandering elsewhere, betrayed her.\n\nDr. Everett's keen eyes were upon her.\n\n\"Are you particularly interested in that man?\" he asked abruptly.\n\nMrs. Roberts smiled faintly.\n\n\"I am particularly interested in that girl,\" she said.\n\n\"How do you like her present companionship?\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" she answered quickly.\n\nWhereupon Mr. Roberts began to question.\n\n\"May I know, doctor, whether you have any other reason than that of\nintuition for asking the question?\"\n\n\"Possibly not,\" said the doctor guardedly. \"It may be a case of\nmistaken identity.\u2014Mrs. Roberts, would you like to have me investigate\nsomething that may be to his disadvantage?\"\n\nMrs. Roberts had a prompt answer ready.\n\n\"There are reasons why it is specially important that such an\ninvestigation should be made and reported to me. May I commission you?\"\n\nThe doctor bowed; and the subject of Professor Ellis was immediately\ndropped.\n\n\nDuring the following week certain innovations took place in Mrs.\nRoberts's well-ordered household. At the end of the conservatory was a\nlong, bright, and hitherto unfurnished room. It had been designed as a\nsort of second conservatory, whenever the beauties of that department\nshould outgrow their present bounds; but meantime other plants had\ntaken root and blossomed in the mistress's heart. Early in the week the\nunused room had been opened and cleaned; then began to arrive packages\nof various shapes and sizes; a roll of carpeting, and two young men\nfrom the carpet store; and there followed soon after the sound of\nhammering. Furniture-waggons halted before the door, leaving their\nburdens. Men and women flitted to and fro, busy and important.\n\nIt was Saturday night before Mr. Roberts and his young clerk were\ninvited in to admire and criticise the new room. Mr. Roberts, at least,\nwas prepared to appreciate its transformation.\n\nThe floor was covered with a heavy carpet in lovely shades of mossy\ngreen, and easy-chairs and couches in tints either matched or made\ndelightful contrasts with the carpet abounded. The walls were hung\nwith pictures and charts and maps. A study-table occupied the centre\nof the room\u2014one of those charming tables, full of mysterious drawers\nand unexpected corners; paper and pens and inks in various colours were\ndisposed about this table in delightful profusion. Other tables, plenty\nof them, small and neat, each of a different shape or design, were\nstationed at intervals, in convenient proximity to comfortable chairs.\n\nNothing could be further removed from one's idea of a schoolroom than\nwas that long, beautiful parlour. Yet when you thought of it, and took\na second, deliberate survey, nothing that could have contributed to\nthe enjoyment of pupils was missing. A small cabinet organ occupied an\nalcove, and music-books of various grades were strown over it. Toward\nthis spot Mrs. Roberts smiled significantly as her eye caught Alfred\nReid's, and she said,\u2014\n\n\"I have visions of sacred Sabbath evening half-hours connected with\nthis corner, one of these days; meantime, is this a pleasant room for\nour Monday evenings?\"\n\nBut Alfred could not answer her. His head was turned away, and there\nwas a suspicious lump in his throat that made him know better than\nto attempt speech. He was standing at that moment under one of the\nwall-texts that the gaslight illumined until it glowed, and the words\nstood out with startling clearness:\u2014\n\n   \"Let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober.\"\n\nHis sister's text; one that, perhaps more than any other, was on her\nlips when she talked with him; one that hung at her coffin's head when\nhe, a little boy, stood beside the coffin and looked down at her face,\nand looked up at that text, and took a mental photograph of both to\nlive in his heart for ever.\n\n\"This is your special chair,\" Mrs. Roberts said, smiling up at him.\n\nAnd he understood her,\u2014here was his opportunity to live out that text\nfor his sister. Wouldn't he try!\n\n\"Well,\" said Gracie, drawing a long breath, \"as a study it is certainly\na success. One can easily see, Flossy, why you were born with the\nability to tell at a glance what colours harmonized, and just where\nthings fitted in. I can't imagine anything prettier than this, and I\ncannot imagine what you are going to do with it.\"\n\nWhereupon they sat down to talk that important question over\u2014what they\nwere going to try to do. Sometimes I have wondered whether Esther,\nfrom her beautiful home, could look down on it all, and whether she\nsmiled over the fact that her work was doing so much more than she had\nplanned? She had roused in her little brother an ambition that had\ngrown with his years, and that had helped to hold him away from many\ntemptations: so much, doubtless, she had foreseen; but what a blessed\nthing it was that she had touched, in those long-ago years, influences\nwhich had drawn her brother, in his young and perilous manhood, into\nintimate relations with such people as Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, so that\nthey sat down familiarly to talk over mutual interests! But for\nEsther's words, spoken long ago, but for her strong desires transmitted\nto him, he might have sat with a very different circle, and talked over\nwidely different schemes.\n\nOn the edge of this circle Gracie Dennis hovered. She could not but be\ninterested in their talk, for she was a Christian, and her father was\na Christian, and she had all her life breathed in the atmosphere of a\nChristian home.\n\nAt the same time, she could but imagine some of their ideas wild ones,\nfor she had never been associated with people who widely overstepped\nthe conventional ways of doing things. And she had, of late, been much\nwith Professor Ellis, who had a sort of gentlemanly sneer for every\nphase of Christian work, and, so far as could be discovered, believed\nin nothing. He had not been outspoken, it is true, and herein lay one\nof the dangers. He was too skilful to be outspoken; but the subtle\npoison had been working, and although Gracie could not help being\ninterested in those queer boys, she could not help thinking Flossy's\nwhole scheme exceedingly visionary, and expected it to come to grief.\n\nThe puzzling question was, why did Mr. Roberts, being a keen-sighted\nman, permit it all? Or was he so much in love with Flossy that he could\nnot bear to thwart even her wildest flights? It was strange, too, to\nsee a young man like Alfred Reid so absorbed; his sister must have had\nwonderful power over him, Gracie thought. She went back to his sister's\ninfluence, always, in trying to explain the matter, and never gave a\nthought to Christ's influence. Meantime she listened to the various\nplans proposed for the first Monday evening, and was sufficiently\ninterested to gather her pretty face in a frown when the distant peal\nfrom the doorbell sounded through the house.\n\n\"What a pity to be interrupted by a caller!\" she exclaimed. \"This room\nis so much nicer than the parlour. Flossy, don't you hope it is some\none to see Mr. Roberts on business?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Mrs. Roberts, shaking her head, with a smile; \"I feel in\nspecial need of Mr. Roberts just now.\u2014Evan, I really think we must be\nexcused to callers for this one evening, there are so many things to\narrange.\"\n\n\"Let us wait and see,\" answered Mr. Roberts; \"perhaps the Lord has sent\nthe caller here to help us, or to be helped.\"\n\nAt that moment came the card.\n\n\"Oh, it is Dr. Everett!\" was Mrs. Roberts's exclamation. \"Let us have\nhim come directly here. Evan, please go and escort him. You were right;\nthe Lord has sent him to help us. I don't know how, I'm sure; but he is\njust the man to help everywhere.\"\n\nAnd the circle instantly widened itself to receive Dr. Everett.\n\nIt took almost no time to speak the commonplaces of the occasion, and\nget back at once to the business of the hour. It was evident that\nDr. Everett needed no lengthy explanations, and there was apparently\nnothing bewildering to his mind in the plan. True, it was new to him;\nbut he seemed to spring at once to the centre of their thought. His\neyes glowed for a moment, and he said with peculiar emphasis,\u2014\n\n\"Reid, when the Son of man cometh, he will surely find 'some' faith on\nthe earth!\"\n\nThen he gave himself to intensest listening and questioning, and\npresently followed his questions with suggestions which showed that\nunconventional ways of working were not altogether new to him.\n\nAs for Gracie, she had as much as she could do to listen intelligently.\nShe almost caught her breath over the rapidity with which the talkers\nmoved from one scheme to another. All the time there was a curious\nprocess of comparison between this man and Professor Ells going on in\nher mind. Not that she wished to compare the two. She told herself\nthat it was absurd to do so; none the less she did it. For instance,\nshe reminded herself that she had mentally assented promptly to the\nsuggestion of inviting the doctor to this room to talk this strange\nscheme over; she had recognized the fitness of the act. But suppose\nProfessor Ellis should call, would it not be simply absurd to think of\nexplaining to him the uses of this unique room? Who would for a moment\nthink of suggesting his name as a helper?\n\n\nI do not know how to describe to you the appearance of that room on\nMonday evening when the boys were in it. I do not know whether the\nsight to you would have been pitiful or ludicrous. How can I tell,\nnot knowing you? There was a dreadful incongruity between the soiled,\nragged clothes and matted hair and unwashed hands and the exquisite\npurity which prevailed around them. Of course you could have seen\nthat; but the all-important question, the answer to which would have\nstamped your place in the world's work-shop, would have been, Do you\nsee any further than that? And seeing further, which way? Do you see\nthe possibilities, or the certainties of failure? Oh, no, I am wrong;\nit would take more than that to tell where you belong.\n\nDr. Everett saw the possibilities, and gloried in them. Gracie Dennis\nthought she saw the certainty of failure, and was sorry for it. But\nProfessor Ellis would have seen the certainty of failure, and would\nhave met it with a sneer, if he had not been too indifferent even for\nthat. As for Mrs. Roberts, did she or did she not represent a different\nand higher type than any of the others? She thought not much about\neither success or failure, but pushed steadily forward the plan that\nshe believed she had gotten on her knees, born of the Spirit. If it\nreally were of God, nothing could make it fail; but if she mistook, and\nthe plan was only hers, mere failure in that direction would signify\nnothing: she would have but to try again. Something of this she felt\nbut did not reason out, for she was no logician.\n\nWhat the boys saw was a great, splendid room, the like of which they\nhad never seen before, for they recognized, without being able to\nexplain, the difference between it and the parlours, and felt freer\nin it. They all came, and they looked not one whit better than on the\nMonday evening before.\n\nOver this fact Gracie Dennis, with all her public scoffing, was, in\nprivate, a little disappointed. It is true she had not expected to see\nthem again; but \"if\" they came, she thought it possible that they might\nhave been tempted to appear with clean hands and faces. Possibly some\nwere so tempted, and but for the difficulties in the way, might really\nhave tried for this. But Gracie was not sufficiently enlightened to\ndream of difficulties in the way of simply washing one's face and hands.\n\nDuring the Saturday evening conference it had been decided that Mr.\nRoberts must make acquaintance with his guests. It would never do to\nhave them come familiarly to his house, and he not be able to recognize\nthem on the streets. Several plans were suggested for introducing him\nskilfully to them, but he disapproved of them all.\n\n\"No,\" he said; \"I'll tell you what we'll do. I will introduce myself.\nYou may receive them, Flossy, and then retire for a few minutes,\nand I'll let myself in by the conservatory passage, and make myself\nacquainted to the best of my abilities. In ten minutes, Flossy, I'll\ngive you leave to return. As for the rest of you, don't dare to venture\nin until I have made good my claim as the head of the house. I am\njealous of you, perhaps.\"\n\nTo this plan Mrs. Roberts readily assented, but the young clerk\nlooked doubtful. In common with the rest of the employ\u00e9s, he stood in\nwholesome awe of the keen-eyed, thorough business man, who seemed to\nknow, as by a sort of instinct, when anything in any department of the\ngreat store was not moving according to rule. His knowledge of Mr.\nRoberts, outside of the store, was limited, and he expected to find the\nboys, if not frightened, so awed that they would resolve never to be\ncaught inside that room again.\n\nHowever, he, of course, only looked his fears. He was too much afraid\nof the great merchant to express them; and it had been understood, when\nthey separated, that this plan was to be carried out.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\n\"I WONDER WHAT THEY'RE ALL AFTER.\"\n\nIN the library waited Gracie and Mr. Reid, while Mrs. Roberts went\nmerrily to see whether the boys or their host had proved the stronger.\n\n\"I don't believe this part of the programme will work,\" Alfred said\nconfidently, the moment the door closed after Mrs. Roberts. \"Those\nfellows will all be afraid of Mr. Roberts, and we shall lose what\nlittle hold we have on them.\"\n\n\"They don't look to me as though it ever occurred to them to be afraid\nof anything,\" Gracie said.\n\nBut Alfred Reid, who had studied deeper into this problem of the\ndifferent classes of society, was ready with his answer:\u2014\n\n\"Yes, they are; they can be awed, and made to feel uncomfortable to\nthe degree that they will resolve not to appear in that region again.\nOne cannot judge from their behaviour in Sabbath school. Some way they\nrecognize mission school as being in a sense their property, and behave\naccordingly; but in a man's own house, surrounded by things of which\nthey do not even know the name, he has them at a disadvantage, and can\neasily rouse within them the feeling that they are 'trapped,' than\nwhich there is nothing those fellows dread so much, I believe.\"\n\n\"But they were not afraid of Flossy last week, even surrounded by the\nelegancies of her parlours and dining-room.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" he said, his eyes alight. \"She has a wisdom born of God, I think,\nfor managing these and all other concerns. She is unlike everybody\nelse.\"\n\nWhereupon Grace Dennis laughed; not a disagreeable laugh, but\nthere came to her just then a sense of the strangeness of thinking\nthat pretty Flossy Shipley, whom she had known all her life, and\nhalf-scorned from the heights of her childhood because she was a silly\nlittle thing, who could not do her problems in class, should have a\nwisdom unlike any others. Yet, almost immediately her laugh was stayed,\nbecause the change in Flossy was so great that she, too, recognized it\nas born of God. Sometimes it came with force to this proud young girl\nthat if God could do so much for Flossy, what might he not be willing\nto do with those whom he had made intellectually her superior, if they\nwere but ready to be led?\n\nThe young man, who was studying her, watched the grave look deepen on\nher face, and wondered at its source. What a pretty face it was! Oh,\nmuch more than pretty; there was great strength in it, and sweetness,\ntoo, of a certain sort, but he could not help comparing the sort with\nthat in some other faces, and he wondered over the difference. This\nyoung lady was a Christian. Why should her Christian experience stamp\nher with such a different expression from that which others wore? He\nalways finished this sort of sentence with a blank space first, as\nthough he did not choose to have himself tell himself any names. Yet he\nspoke a name forcibly enough, still gazing earnestly at Gracie.\n\n\"Did you ever meet Miss Joy Saunders?\"\n\nGracie turned toward him a laughing face.\n\n\"No; but we are very anxious to, Flossy and I. We have both been told\nthat we ought to know her, and told so earnestly that we really think\nwe ought. Who is she? Is she, too, unlike anybody else?\"\n\n\"Very,\" he said promptly. \"I know her very little; she is the daughter\nof our landlady. I meet her in the hall on rare occasions, and\nsometimes catch glimpses of her just vanishing from some room as I\nenter; but as for being acquainted with her, I suppose I am not. I\nthink\u2014though of that I am by no means sure\u2014that she is engaged to Dr.\nEverett.\n\n\"Oh then, of course he would think naturally that people ought to know\nher. What is she like?\"\n\n\"Like nothing,\" said Alfred, with great promptness. \"Did you ever know\na person named Joy?\"\n\n\"No;\u2014what a singular name!\"\n\n\"Well it fits. She is very far removed from mirth, and she is not what\npeople call gay, and she is not outspoken apparently at any time,\nthough, as I say, I do not know her; but there is something in her face\nthat fits the name. I do not know what it is. Sometimes I think it is\nthe shining of Christ's face reflected in her; but the puzzle is, why\ndo not other faces have it\u2014faces which belong to him?\"\n\n\"Perhaps there is a difference in the degree of belonging.\"\n\nGracie spoke the words very gently, wondering meanwhile at the way in\nwhich this thought chimed in with hers about Flossy.\n\n\"Oh, there is. But why should there be? If I belong to Christ, I\nbelong, don't I? There is no half-way service possible. Why do I not so\nlook that others take knowledge of me that I have been with Jesus?\"\n\n\"How do you know but they do?\"\n\n\"Ah, I know\u2014I know too well. They are more likely a great deal to\ntake knowledge that I have been with Satan. I feel the frown all over\nmy face a great deal of the time; and the world goes astray a great\nmany times, when I suppose it is just myself that is wrong. But, Miss\nDennis, I hunger for the shining of his face in me.\"\n\n\"That must be the meaning of the beatitude which puzzled my childhood,\"\nshe answered, trying to speak lightly, to hide feelings that were\ndeeply moved:\n\n   \"'Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for\nthey shall be filled.'\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said smiling; \"there is actually a promise I had\nnot thought of it. And yet\u2014\" the thoughtful frown gathering almost\nimmediately\u2014\"do you suppose that a person who really hungered for a\ncertain thing could be satisfied with anything else? I often have\nan hour of what at the moment seems to me like hunger for Him; but\nthe hour passes, and I get filled with business, or with plans, or\npossibly with annoyances, and feel nothing but a general irritation\nfor everybody. Do you think there can be anything genuine about such\ndesires, so easily turned aside?\"\n\n\"Oh, I do not know,\" said Gracie hastily. \"Why do you ask me such\nthings? Did not I tell you I was not good? Ask those people who are\nunlike all others. Why don't you ask this Joy? She could tell you,\nI presume. I can tell you nothing, save that this is a very strange\nworld, not half so nice as I once thought it, and I don't like to think\nabout things.\"\n\nHow different he was from other young men with whom she had spent\nfifteen minutes many a time in gay banter! This was, after all, the\nthought uppermost in her mind at that moment. Nice Christian men, of\nwhom her father spoke well, and who, people said, were young men to be\nproud of, it seemed to her that she knew them by the dozen, yet with\nwhich one of them had she ever carried on such a conversation as this?\nWith which one could she have attempted anything of the kind, without\nleading him to suppose that she was taking leave of her senses?\n\nShe recalled some of the gay words that she had spoken with these\nothers, and tried hurriedly to decide why it would sound to her\nperfectly absurd to talk with Alfred Reid in that way. However, she did\nnot want to talk with him; he was too full of questionings.\n\n\"And questions,\" said poor Gracie, \"are all that I can ask myself. I\nwant somebody to talk with who is assured of the ground on which he\nstands, and can tell me why he stands there.\"\n\nThere was not time for further talk; they were summoned to the new\nroom. Bursts of laughter greeted their ears as they made their way\neagerly across the hall, and Gracie took time to remark that the boys\nwere certainly not awed into silence, before the opening door let them\ninto the brightly-lighted scene. Every boy was laughing, not quietly,\nbut immoderately, and the centre of attraction was evidently Mr.\nRoberts.\n\n\"I have been giving our friends an account of an old army experience,\"\nhe said, in explanation to Gracie, \"and we have been enjoying a laugh\ntogether over the old memory.\u2014You are all acquainted with Miss Dennis,\nI think, young gentlemen?\"\n\nClearly there was no need for any one to introduce Mr. Roberts to the\nboys; apparently they knew him now better than they did any of the\nothers. Yet as Gracie, after shaking hands with each of the guests,\ntook a vacant seat by Nimble Dick, she was greeted with a confidential\nwhisper:\u2014\n\n\"That's a jolly chap as ever I saw; and I never heard anything to beat\nthe yarn he told us for cuteness. Who is he?\"\n\n\"Why, he is Mr. Evan Roberts, the owner of this house.\"\n\n\"My eyes!\" said Dick, gazing about him in a startled way. \"Look here;\nhe ain't that Roberts from the big store in Fourth Street?\"\n\n\"Yes, he is; he is one of the partners in that store.\"\n\nThen did Nimble Dick give a low whistle\u2014suddenly cut short as the other\nboys looked at him\u2014and sat up straight in his chair, and for at least\na minute was awed, or else was bewildered. If his mind could have been\nlooked into for a moment, something like this might have been seen\nthere:\n\n\"And here I am sittin' in one of his chairs, and been laughin' to kill\nover his funny story! If this ain't the greatest lark out! I wonder\nwhat they're all after, anyhow!\"\n\nThen the real business of the evening commenced.\n\nI should like to describe that evening, but it is really worse to\ndescribe than the boys. It was designed to be one of those most\ndifficult evenings, where every act and almost every word has been\npreviously arranged, but arranged in such a manner as to appear like an\nimpromptu effort, the result of merely the happenings of the hour.\n\nFor instance, Mrs. Roberts aimed at nothing less formidable than the\nteaching of these boys to read and write, and knew as well as you or I\nknow it, that to frankly own that she was ready and willing to give her\ntime and patience to so teaching them would be to outwit herself. They\ndid not belong to the class who can be beguiled into evening schools.\nThere are such. Mark Calkins would have seized such an opportunity\nand rejoiced over it, but these were lower in the scale; they did\nnot realize their need, and they had what they in ignorance called\n\"independence;\" they were not to be \"trapped\" by evening schools.\nTherefore it required diplomacy; and no people can be more diplomatic,\non occasion, than certain most innocent-looking little women. Mrs.\nRoberts had studied her way step by step.\n\nTherefore it was that by the most natural passage possible she led the\nway to a discussion of different styles of writing, bringing forth to\naid her a certain old autograph album which had been to many places\nof note, among others Chautauqua, and had the names of distinguished\npersons, as well as of many who were not distinguished, except for\nChristian endurance in consenting to write in an autograph album. Good\nwriters were talked about and selected, and poor writers were talked\nabout; and it was said by some one, accidentally of course, that a good\nhand was really an accomplishment.\n\n\"It is more than that,\" declared Mr. Roberts. \"A man's business\nlife often turns on it. I have myself had to turn away from several\notherwise suitable helpers in our business because they really could\nnot write a good, clear hand, that could be read without studying.\u2014Are\nyou a good writer, Miss Gracie?\"\n\nThis remark, coming suddenly to Gracie from her host, almost\nembarrassed her; for you are not to suppose that the very words by\nwhich these themes should be introduced had been planned, and it had\nnot occurred to Gracie that so personal a question might be asked her.\nBut she rallied quickly:\u2014\n\n\"No, sir; I am sorry to say that I am not. I write what papa calls a\nmincing hand\u2014all jumbled up together, you know, or running into each\nother, the letters are, and so difficult to read that papa said when I\ncame away, he hoped I would call on his friend, Doctor Stuart, every\nday, and write a letter on his type-writer.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" interrupted Nimble Dick, his face curious.\n\n\"What? A type-writer? Oh, it is a strange little machine used instead\nof the pen\u2014at least, a very few people use it. It is quite new, I\nthink, and must be very curious. I never saw one, but the writing\nlooks just like print. Dr. Stuart, a pastor in the city, is my papa's\nfriend, and writes to him on his, and papa reads the letter with great\nsatisfaction, saying to me,\u2014\n\n\"'There, daughter, that is something like! People who cannot write well\nenough for others to read should print.'\"\n\n\"They are not so very uncommon, Miss Dennis,\" explained Dr. Everett,\nwho saw the eagerness on Nimble Dick's face. \"It is a comparatively\nnew invention, but is being caught up very promptly. I think nearly\nall the leading lawyers use them, and those who do not own them are\ngetting their copying done at the rooms. They are very ingenious little\ninstruments.\"\n\n\"Did you say you never saw one?\"\n\nThis question from Mr. Roberts to Gracie, and he added:\u2014\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, I believe you have never had other than that first\nglimpse I showed you in the Parker Building. I have an idea. Suppose I\nhire one of the little fellows to interest us? It would be pleasant to\nlook into it and see how it works. Did none of you ever see one?\n\n\"Well, now, we'll try for that on next Monday evening. I'll have one\nsent up to-morrow; and, Miss Gracie, we'll appoint you showman for\nthe following Monday, so it is to be hoped that you will employ your\nleisure in learning how to manage the creature, and perhaps send your\nfather a readable letter at the same time.\"\n\nNow, as may readily be supposed, all this about machinery had not been\narranged for beforehand, but was a side issue, born of the fact that\nthe watchful servant of his Master saw an eager look in the eyes of the\nboy Dick directly there was anything said that suggested machinery. One\nof the great aims of these evenings was to study character, however\ndeveloped.\n\nHaving turned his company from the regular channel, Mr. Roberts made\nhaste to put them skilfully back where they were before:\u2014\n\n\"Still it would be a pity to resort to machinery simply because one did\nnot know how to write well. I would rather set to work to correct the\nerror. I happen to know one of our number who can write a very enviable\nhand.\u2014Do you know, Reid, that the letter you wrote me was the first\nthing which attracted me to you? I remember I showed the note to one of\nour senior partners, who was particularly disturbed by poor writing,\nand he said,\u2014\n\n\"'Engage him, Roberts, do! Young man who can write like that will be a\nrelief.'\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, I move that we resolve ourselves at this moment into a\nwriting-class, to be taught by Mr. Reid.\u2014My dear sir, will you take us\nin hand?\"\n\nSomething of this kind had been planned\u2014at least, it had been planned\nthat Reid should be asked to do this thing; but he found the actual\nasking embarrassing, and struggled with it with flushing cheeks.\n\nGracie came to his aid:\u2014\n\n\"I don't know whether I'll take lessons or not. Who wants to expose\none's ignorance? How will you teach? Must we each give a specimen of\nour present attainments?\"\n\nInstantly Reid divined the reason for the question.\n\n\"No,\" he said eagerly; \"oh, no; I should begin with those horrors of\nyour childhood, pothooks or something of that sort\u2014lines and curves,\nyou know. There are not many of them after all in our letters, and when\nonce a person has conquered them, it is easy to put them together.\"\n\nThere was more talk, easy and social.\n\nMr. and Mrs. Roberts, the doctor, and Gracie seemed equally interested\nin the project, and questioned young Reid, until he assured them that\nhe began to feel like a veritable professor. Apparently the boys were\nforgotten. This very fact put them at their ease, and they listened\ninterested and amused over the thought that these ladies and gentlemen\nwanted to go to school.\n\nAt first I do not think it occurred to one of them that he was included\nin the proposal to form a writing-class.\n\nHow was it done? I am not sure that any one of the eager group of\nworkers could have told you afterward, so excited did they become over\nthis first scheme. Nobody could remember just what words were said, nor\nwho said them, nor whether the boys all looked equally startled when\npaper and pen were put into each hand. They remembered that some shook\ntheir heads emphatically, and that Nimble Dick spoke plainly:\n\n\"No you don't! I can't write any more than a duck can, and I never\nexpect to.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts knew that Dirk Colson's dark face turned a fierce red, and\nhe indignantly snapped the offered pen half-way across the table with\nhis thumb and finger. But of these words and acts nobody apparently\ntook any notice. The writing began, and the first marks given as copies\nwere so simple, looked so easy to do, and the attempts of the ladies\nand gentlemen fell so far short of what the teacher desired, and were\nso unmercifully criticised by him, and the criticisms were so merrily\nreceived by the writers, that at last the whole thing took the form of\na joke to Nimble Dick's mind, and he became possessed with a burning\ndesire to try.\n\nOne by one the boys stealthily followed his example, Alfred taking care\nto watch eagerly, to commend both Stephen Crowley and Gracie Dennis in\nthe same breath for some true stroke, and criticise both Mrs. Roberts\nand Nimble Dick for not holding the pen aright.\n\nThe entire party became so interested that only Mrs. Roberts knew just\nwhen Dirk Colson stealthily brought back his pen from the distance to\nwhich it had been rolled, and, sitting upright that he might attract\nthe less notice, tried his hand on the curve which was giving even Dr.\nEverett trouble.\n\nWhen the young teacher discovered it, he made also another discovery,\nwhich he proclaimed:\u2014\n\n\"Upon my word\u2014I beg the pardon of each of you\u2014but Colson here has made\nthe only respectable R-curve there is in the company.\"\n\nThen if his sister Mart had seen the glow on Dirk's face, I am not sure\nthat she would have known him. There was a momentary transformation.\n\nAs for Mrs. Roberts, she bowed low over the letter she was carefully\nforming, but it was to say in soft whisper heard by one ear alone,\u2014\n\n\"Thank God!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\"YOUR'N'S THE WAY!\"\n\nYOU are not to suppose, because this first Monday evening (which, by\nthe way, was concluded with sandwiches and coffee) was a success,\npronounced so by all concerned, that therefore the ones which followed\nwere all rose-colour.\n\nFortunately, not one of the workers expected this, and so were brave\nand cheerful under drawbacks.\n\nThese were numerous and varied.\n\nAfter the first novelty wore off, it took at times only the most\ntrivial excuses to keep the boys away. Sometimes when they came, their\nconduct was anything but encouraging. They lolled in the easy-chairs,\nsmelling strongly of tobacco and other bar-room odours, refused\ninsolently to apply themselves to any work at hand, audibly pronounced\nthe whole thing \"slow,\" and in numberless ways severely tried the\npatience of both Alfred and Gracie.\n\nFor the others, they had counted the cost\u2014at least the gentlemen\nhad\u2014and expected to move slowly, even to appear to go backward some of\nthe time. As for Mrs. Roberts, I have told you that she worked in a\npeculiar manner, with the motto, \"This one thing I do,\" apparently ever\nbefore her.\n\nEach evening was distinct in itself, with efforts to make and obstacles\nto overcome; and at its close she had a way of laying it aside,\nas something with which her part was done, not attempting even to\ncalculate results. Then she was ready to turn to a new day, and work\nsteadily for that.\n\n\nThe winter was slipping away, and Gracie Dennis lingered. She could\nhardly have told you why, yet there were many apparent reasons. Mrs.\nRoberts wanted her, rejoiced in her, and coaxed irresistibly as often\nas the thought of going home was mentioned. Then Gracie, laugh over the\npeculiar work going on as she might, was undeniably interested in those\nboys. She was working for them, therefore of course she was interested.\n\n\"I don't see how you can go this week,\" would young Reid say to her,\nwith a perplexed air; \"you know we have that matter all planned for\nnext Monday evening. How can we carry out the scheme if you are not\nthere to do your part?\"\n\nThen would Gracie laugh, and demur, and admit, to herself only, that it\nwas very pleasant to be needed\u2014as she certainly was\u2014for one night more;\nand so the nights passed.\n\nHer work was to be \"Professor of Elocution,\" as Mr. Roberts gaily\ncalled her when the workers were alone together. It had been\ndiscovered that she could read both prose and poetry with effect. So\na reading-class was organized, and they chose for the first evening,\nnot one of Bryant's or Whittier's gems, nor selections from Milton or\nShakespeare, which would have suited part of the company, nor yet the\n\"Easy Readings\" in some standard spelling-book, which would have fitted\nthe capacity of the others, but, with care and much discussion, one of\nWill Carleton's descriptive poems, full of homely yet tender language,\nfull of pathos and of humour, was unanimously selected.\n\nThe first evening reading had been commenced with nuts and apples.\nThere are those who can see no connection between this and the\nintellectual; happily for the characters with whom she had to deal,\nMrs. Roberts was not one of them.\n\nWhile the others were still enjoying the refreshments, she took the\nbook and read. This was her quiet little sacrifice. It was not pleasant\nto her to become a public reader. It required courage to get through\nwith one verse, with Dr. Everett sitting opposite, and Gracie Dennis\non a low seat at her side, and her husband listening intently. Mrs.\nRoberts was not a good reader, and was aware of it. She pronounced\nthe words correctly, it is true; but when you had said that, you had\nsaid all that there was to offer in praise of her effort. She had some\nexasperating faults. But she bravely read the two verses, and some of\nthe boys listened, and one of them laughed; he had caught a gleam of\nthe fun in the poem. This, of course, was Nimble Dick.\n\nThen Alfred Reid made the same effort on the same verses; his\nperformance was very little better, and he, too, knew it. He could\nwrite, but he was by no means a public reader; this was his offering to\nthe general good. If those fellows, by reason of his mistakes, could be\ninduced to climb, he was willing to offer his pride on the altar. No\nmatter by what petty trials they were caught, so that they were really\ncaught.\n\nThen followed Gracie Dennis; and her own father, acceptable preacher\nthough he was, might with credit to himself have taken lessons of\nher. She was certainly, for one so young and so unprofessional, a\nmagnificent reader. So indeed was Marion Wilbur, and she had enjoyed\nteaching Gracie.\n\nThe poem blossomed in her hand. The crunching of nuts and apples\nentirely ceased. The boys sat erect, and listened and laughed, and\nflushed and swallowed suspiciously, over some of the homely pathos.\nThey had never heard anything like that before, and they evidently\nappreciated it. She read through to the end.\n\nThen were unloosed the tongues. They exclaimed in delight,\u2014\n\n\"What an accomplishment it is!\" said Mr. Roberts. \"And how few possess\nit! Doctor, how many really fine readers have you heard in your life?\"\n\n\"About three,\" said the doctor laconically.\n\n\"Well,\" said Mrs. Roberts, \"let us all be exceptions.\u2014Gracie, teach us\nhow. I will try again.\"\n\nAnd she did, on the first verse of the poem, with better success than\nbefore; but how sharp the contrast between her reading and Gracie's,\nshe knew! It was not easy for her to read.\n\nI don't know\u2014possibly I am mistaken\u2014but it seems to me that I have\nknown people ready for large sacrifices, who yet would shrink painfully\nfrom these little ones.\n\nIn discussing the programme for the evening, the question had been,\nwhen each had done his part, How were they to influence the boys to\njoin? Could they join? Was it probable that they knew enough about\nreading to attempt to speak the words of the poem? With reference to\nthis obstacle, a poem had been chosen full of simple, homely words,\nsuch as are in common use; especially was the first verse free from\nwhat Mr. Roberts called \"shoals.\" Having heard the verse read several\ntimes, it was hoped that some one of the seven might have courage to\nattempt it; but Gracie did not believe that such would be the case.\n\n\"I don't see how we can ask them, and do it naturally,\" said Dr.\nEverett. \"It is such an unheard-of thing, you know; and I am afraid, do\nour best, it will present itself to them as a patronage, and that will\nbe fatal. The people who are low enough to need patronage are the very\nones who won't endure it.\"\n\nWhereupon various ways of managing the matter were discussed and\ndiscarded. Suddenly Mrs. Roberts turned to her young lieutenant, who\nhad been silent for some time, and said,\u2014\n\n\"What are you thinking of, Mr. Reid Do you see a way out?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said; \"I have neither knowledge nor skill in such matters;\nbut my thoughts just then were faraway. I was thinking how curiously\ncertain apparently trivial instances of one's childhood will stand out\nwith almost startling prominence.\"\n\n\"What sent you off in that direction?\" questioned Dr. Everett. \"There\nmust have been an association of ideas.\"\n\n\"Oh, there was. I was thinking how vividly I remembered a discussion\nbetween my mother and my sister younger than Esther, in regard to\nsome matter which perplexed them; and when they could come to no\nsatisfactory conclusion, they appealed to my sister Esther, who was\nresting as usual on her lounge. I seem to hear her voice as she said,\u2014\n\n\"'We haven't to do anything about it until to-morrow; perhaps to-morrow\nwill have a light of its own for our direction.'\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Mrs. Roberts said, her eyes lighting with an appreciative\nsmile; \"we have not to do anything about this until Monday night, and\nperhaps Monday night will see us wise.\"\n\nI don't know how many thought of this little conversation when Monday\nevening came; but certainly Alfred Reid and Mrs. Roberts did, for\nshe glanced at him and smiled significantly when Dr. Everett, having\napparently forgotten that anything beyond their own pleasure was in\ncontemplation, challenged Gracie to a discussion as to the emphasis on\na certain word in the second line; he had never heard it so read, and\nhe called for an analysis that would sustain the reading, and received\nit, and was not yet prepared to yield the point, but read the verse as\nhe had imagined it should be read.\n\nAnd then Gracie, at Mr. Roberts's call, repeated it with her rendering;\nand I am not sure but all parties concerned actually forgot their final\nobject in the interest of the discussion until they were suddenly\ncalled to it by an interrupting voice,\u2014\n\n\"Your'n's the way,\" it said, with an emphatic nod of a shock of matted\nhair\u2014\"your'n's the way.\"\n\nIt was Dirk Colson. He had forgotten for the moment that anybody was\nlistening to him, save the two readers. He was looking directly at\nGracie, and the nods were evidently intended for her.\n\n\"Of course it is!\" she said eagerly, her face flushing with a triumph\nthat had nothing to do with the right emphasis.\n\n\"You read it, won't you, and show these people that we are right?\"\n\nAfterward, Mrs. Roberts confessed that she involuntarily placed her\nhand on her heart with a dim idea of hushing its beating, lest others\nwould hear, so important to her did the moment seem.\n\nDr. Everett looked dismayed. The least hopeful one of the seven seemed\nDirk. None of them knew of his dangerous talent for imitation. None of\nthem believed that he would make any attempt at reading, but thought\nhe would shrink into deeper sullenness. All of them were mistaken. He\nreached for the book, glanced for a moment over the lines, and then\nread the verse with so complete an imitation of Gracie Dennis, and yet\nwith a voice and manner that so fitted the homely words and the homely\nscene described, that the effect was actually better than when Gracie\nread.\n\nInstinctively the cultured portion of his audience greeted the effort\nwith a clapping of hands. The blood, meantime, rolled in dark waves\nover Dirk's face. He had been cheered before. None of his present\napplauders could imagine what a set had often clapped their hands\nover his successful imitations; but Dirk, who liked applause as well\nas other human beings do, had never, in his wildest stretches of\nimagination, placed himself before such people as listened now, and\nreceived their approval.\n\nGreat was the excitement and satisfaction. The six companions, far from\nfeeling any emotion of jealousy, seemed greatly elated, believing that\none of their number had made a \"hit\" and increased their importance.\n\nNo one else could be found to attempt the verse. Nimble Dick shook his\nhead good-naturedly, and declared that he would rather \"undertake to\nrun an engine to Californy\" than try it; and the others were of like\nmind. Then came Gracie to the front again.\n\n\"I'll tell you what you must all do. I have been experimenting with\nthat type-writer, Mr. Roberts, all the week. You know it will manifold,\nwith the use of carbon paper; and it chances that when I was seized\nwith a desire to try its powers in that direction, I chose this very\nverse to copy. So I have fifteen good copies in print. You must each\ntake a copy and make this verse a study until next Monday; then I shall\nchallenge you all to sustain me in my reading.\"\n\nThis proposition was hailed with such satisfaction by the older members\nthat it immediately became popular, and each boy received his copy\nmechanically and gazed at it curiously, but Dirk Colson's thoughts were\nturned in a new channel.\n\n\"Look here!\" he said, detaining Gracie by an imperious inclination of\nhis head, as she handed him the copy. \"How did you make these? Didn't\nyou print them fifteen times? I didn't understand what you said.\"\n\n\"Why no,\" said Gracie; \"the machine will manifold. I'll show you; come\nover to the end window: it stands there waiting to be displayed, and it\nis a little wonder.\"\n\nThen they crowded around the type-writer, and Gracie, really proud of\nthe skill she had acquired in a week's time, showed off the little\nwonder to great advantage.\n\nThe fact that the type-writer was new to most of the others, that they\nwere decidedly ignorant as to its working, increased the comfort of\nthe hour, by doing away with the embarrassing feeling that any one of\nthem was playing a part. Dr. Everett was no more familiar with the\ntype-writer than was Dirk Colson, and was just as eager to know about\nit.\n\nAlso, everybody apparently felt an equally strong desire to write his\nname on the marvellous little creature; and each in turn sat down\nbefore it and moved his awkward hands with nearly equal slowness over\nthe keys, picking out the magic letters.\n\nIt was this episode that made the workers during their next conference\nbranch out in new lines.\n\n\"We need something,\" said Dr. Everett, walking up and down the\nfloor in puzzled thought\u2014\"we need something that shall be a genuine\ncommon interest, of which we are all, or all but one, equally\nignorant\u2014something that we can take hold of with zest, on as low a\nplatform as the most ignorant of those seven. I was convinced of that\nwhen I saw the abandon with which we all went into the type-writer\nbusiness with a naturalness and equality that, in the matter of reading\nand writing, it is impossible for us to feel. If the machine were\ncomplicated, so that it would take us each three months or so to master\nit, that would do. What can we take up that will place us on a level?\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\n\"WE HAVE BEGUN BACKWARDS.\"\n\n\"WELL,\" said Mr. Reid, \"we should want to have one of our number not\n'on a level.' How would it do to appoint you, Dr. Everett, to give us\na few lectures in hygiene? Popular lectures about air and exercise and\nventilation and bathing, and all sorts of every-day topics about which\npeople are ignorant.\"\n\n\"That's a capital idea, Reid. Those fellows could certainly be\nbenefited by a little attention to such questions; and I'm sure the\nrest of us would like to hear of the principles which govern these\nimportant laws. Such lectures put into popular form are decidedly\ninteresting, I think. Let us vote for them.\" This was Mr. Roberts's\nhearty seconding.\n\nBut the doctor laughed.\n\n\"There is a ludicrous side to it which you do not see,\" he said.\n\"Imagine me holding forth on the importance of ventilation, for\ninstance, to a poor fellow who comes from a region where father\nand mother, and a horde of children of both sexes and all ages,\ncrowd together in one room, and that a cellar, where the sun never\npenetrates, and the air that crawls in through the one small window is\nreeking With even more impurities than can be found inside; or talking\nabout bathing to the poor wretches who have no clothes to change, and\nbarely water enough, by carrying it long distances, to satisfy their\nmost pressing needs!\n\n\"Still, Reid, I'm not quarrelling with your idea. There is a sensible\nside to it; there are things that I could tell even those boys which\nmight interest them, and would certainly be to their advantage to\nknow. The subject is one which can be popularized to suit even such\nan audience. I'll try for it occasionally if it shall seem best, but\nit doesn't meet my demand. I want us all on a platform where we shall\nstart in equal ignorance and get on together. Of course you are all\nmore or less familiar with all the facts that I should have to present,\nand the boys would know it. They are sharp fellows; it wouldn't take\nthem an hour to discover that we were fishing for them; and if there is\nany one thing on which they are at present determined, it is probably\nthat they will not be benefited. What is there that one of us knows\nof which the others are ignorant? French won't do, for Miss Dennis is\nacquainted with that language, I think, and so are you, Reid, are you\nnot?\"\n\n\"Well, I can stammer through a few sentences. I don't speak it like a\nnative, as you do.\"\n\nAt this revelation a vivid blush glowed on Gracie Dennis's cheek. She\nremembered Professor Ellis's comments in French. Then the doctor had\nunderstood, though his face was so imperturbable! What could he have\nthought of the courtesy of her guest?\n\nMeantime Mr. Reid wore a perplexed face.\n\n\"You are right,\" he said to the doctor; \"we are not enough on a level;\nI felt our advantage last night when Miss Dennis was explaining the\ntype-writer. But I don't see the way clear. What subject is there on\nwhich all but one of us could meet on common ground, and that one could\nturn professor?\"\n\nHere interposed Mr. Roberts, speaking in a meek tone of voice:\u2014\n\n\"If I were not a modest man, I should venture a suggestion; as it is, I\nreally don't know what to do.\"\n\nThe doctor turned to him quickly:\u2014\n\n\"Out with it, man; if you are master of a profession, or a trade, or a\ntheory, unknown to the rest of us, you are bound on your honour as a\nmember of this unique organization to present it.\"\n\nAt the same moment Mrs. Roberts came to his aid.\n\n\"O Evan, teach us shorthand!\"\n\nWhereupon Mr. Roberts heaved what was intended to appear as a sigh of\nrelief, and announced that his modesty was preserved.\n\nUpon this suggestion they seized with eagerness; not one of them knew\nanything about phonetic writing, save Mr. Roberts, and he was master of\nthe art.\n\n\"It is the very thing!\" the doctor said with heartiness. \"I should like\nexceedingly to learn it, and Reid and the ladies may be able to make it\nuseful in a hundred ways; and as for the seven, if they really master\nit, it may be the foundation of a fortune for some of them.\"\n\nSo, without more ado, it was planned that on the very next Monday\nevening the subject should be skilfully presented, its importance\nand its fascinations discussed, and the boys be beguiled into taking\na first lesson, sandwiched in between the all-important reading and\nwriting lessons.\n\nAlas for plans! On the very next Monday the conspirators, with the\nexception of young Reid, were together by seven o'clock. The faint\naroma of coffee floated through the room. A fruit-basket filled with\noranges occupied a conspicuous table, and everything waited for the\nguests.\n\nWhile they waited, instead of enjoying themselves as the four were\ncertainly capable of doing, they were noticeably restless\u2014listened\nfor the shuffling of careless feet on the steps, and the sound of\nuncultured voices in the hall, and waited expectantly whenever the bell\npealed, only to be obliged to send word to some caller that \"Mr. and\nMrs. Roberts were engaged.\"\n\nThe special occupation of the four seemed to be to look at their\nwatches and to remark that the doctor's was a trifle fast, and to\nwonder if half-past seven would be a more suitable hour for the boys,\nand to wonder what could be detaining Reid.\n\nAt last it was half-past seven, and then it was fifteen minutes of\neight, and then it was ten minutes of eight!\n\nAnd then the doorbell rang again. It was Reid, and he was alone! One\nglance at his distressed face told the lookers-on that something was\namiss, even before he exclaimed:\u2014\n\n\"You won't see a boy to-night!\"\n\n\"Why?\" \"What is the trouble?\" \"Where are they?\"\n\nThese were the various ways of putting the same question.\n\n\"One of the M'Cullum partners has become interested in the boys, it\nseems, and has concluded that he will try what he can do towards their\nelevation; so he has commenced by presenting each one of them with a\nticket to the Green Street Theatre, and there they are at this moment!\"\n\nThis startling intelligence was variously received.\n\nDr. Everett exclaimed,\u2014\"Is it possible?\"\n\nGracie Dennis remarked that it was something like what she had\nexpected; Mrs. Roberts said not a word; and Mr. Roberts added to the\nastonishment of the moment by bursting into a laugh.\n\nPoor Reid seemed to feel the laugh more than anything; his face\ngathered into heavier clouds than before, he bit his lip to hold back\nthe vexed words that were just ready to burst forth, and strode almost\nangrily to the farther corner of the room.\n\nAn embarrassed silence seemed to fall upon the others. At least Gracie\nfelt embarrassed; the doctor looked simply expectant.\n\nAt last Mr. Roberts drew himself up from his lounging attitude and\nbroke into the stillness.\n\n\"Ah, now, good people, don't let us make serious mistakes! Come back\nhere, my dear young brother, and let us look this thing in the face,\nand talk it over calmly. Are we children playing at benevolence that at\nthe first discouragement we should cry out,\u2014\n\n\"'All is lost!' And retire vanquished?\n\n\"Come, I laughed because really this does not seem such a serious\nmatter to me as it seems to present to the rest of you.\n\n\"What did we expect? Here are seven boys, right from the gutters;\nsomehow we have had them laid on our hearts, and have enlisted to help\nto fight the battle that is going on about them in this world. Christ\ndied to save them, and Satan means that the sacrifice shall be in vain.\nHe is bringing all his powers to bear on them, and he has many and\nvaried powers.\n\n\"Here comes into the scene a man benevolently inclined\u2014not a Christian,\nbut in his way a philanthropist. By accident, he has come in contact\nwith one of the boys; by accident, he learns that something\u2014he does\nnot know quite what\u2014is being attempted to benefit them. Can't you give\nhim the credit of being honest? The only thing he thinks of that he\ncan do to help is to give them an evening's entertainment. At one of\nthe decent theatres there is being presented what seems to be known\nin their parlance as a 'moral play!' So he presents each boy with a\nticket. Now, what did we expect of those boys?\n\n\"Last week a lady and two gentlemen who have been members of our church\nfor years left the regular prayer-meeting and went to the Philharmonic\nconcert.\n\n\"Ought we to expect that it would even occur to our seven boys to give\nup what to them is a rare treat for the pleasure of spending an evening\nwith us? As for the moral obligation, they have probably never so much\nas heard the words.\n\n\"Isn't it time we knew what we were about? What are we after? It is\nwell enough to teach the poor fellows to read and write, and to help to\nlift them up in other ways, but our efforts will amount to very little\nunless we succeed in bringing them to the great Lever of human society;\nunless Christ takes hold of this thing we shall fail. Now, has he taken\nhold? Is he, at least, as much interested in them as we are? Is his\nHoly Spirit preceding and supplementing all our efforts? And if this is\nthe case, is an evening at a theatre going to ruin his plans?\"\n\nLong before these earnest sentences were concluded, Reid had returned\nfrom his distant corner and taken a seat near his employer. His eyes\nwere full of tears, and his voice trembled:\u2014\n\n\"I beg your pardon, Mr. Roberts; I'm an ignorant blunderer; I did feel\nfor the moment as though everything were lost.\"\n\n\"We have begun backwards,\" said Mr. Roberts. \"I was reading to-day what\na mistake the missionaries made for years in trying to 'civilize' the\nGreenlanders. And what a perfect failure they made of it until one day,\nalmost by accident, a man began to tell them about Christ on the cross,\nand the story melted them. I don't think we have thought enough about\nhim in this matter.\"\n\n\"I stand convicted,\" Dr. Everett said; \"I've made the same mistake, I\nbelieve, in all my efforts for people. I have been praying for them, it\nis true; but after all, I feel now as though there had been too much\nrelying on human means, and not enough on God. It is a case of 'these\nought ye to have done, and not to have left the other undone.'\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. Roberts, looking at his watch, \"we are in the same\ncondemnation; it is, I believe, the most common and one of the most\nfatal mistakes that Christian workers make. But there is a way out. We\nexpected to spend until ten o'clock with those boys. It is nearly nine\nnow: suppose we spend the next hour with Christ, asking for the power\nof the Holy Spirit on any and every effort that we may make for them in\nthe future? Our ultimate aim is to bring every one of them to Jesus,\nand he knows it; now if we have gone about in the wrong way, we have\nonly to ask his forgiveness and look to him steadily for guidance. What\ndo you say, friends? Shall we spend the hour in taking them to the only\nOne who really can afford them lasting help?\"\n\nI suppose that he who \"maketh the wrath of man to praise him\" is\nequally able to manage the folly of man. Could the injudicious\nphilanthropist have looked into that room that evening, and heard the\nprayers that went up to God for those boys, and understood something\nof the power of prayer, he would have had one illustration of how God\nmanages the foolishness of men.\n\nIt was a very earnest prayer-meeting. These workers had each one bowed\nin secret, and with more or less earnestness asked for God's blessing\non their efforts; but it occurred to them that evening, as a very\nstrange thing, that they had never unitedly prayed for this before.\n\nTherefore, there was an element of confession in all the prayers that\nmoved Gracie Dennis strangely. Especially was this the case when she\nheard her old acquaintance, Flossy, pour out her soul's longings. It\nhappened, so strange are the customs of Christians, that though this\nwas the daughter of a minister of the gospel, herself a Christian,\nshe had never before heard a lady pray in the presence of gentlemen.\nShe had heard of their doing so, heard them criticised with sharp\nsarcasm. Some of the criticisms which had sounded full of keenness and\nwit when she heard them, recurred to her at this time, and some way,\nwith Flossy's low, earnest voice filling her heart, they dwindled into\nshallowness and coarseness. All the same, their baneful influence was\non her, and helped to hold her back from opening her lips, for the\ncritic had been Professor Ellis.\n\nWhen the hostess and her young guest were left alone together that\nevening, the latter had a question to ask:\u2014\n\n\"Flossy Shipley!\"\u2014the name, you will remember, which she always went\nback to when excited. \"I didn't know you believed in praying in public!\nHave you changed in everything?\"\n\n\"In public, my dear!\" with a quiet smile. \"Why, I am in my own house.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, but you know what I mean\u2014before gentlemen. Do you really think\nit is necessary?\"\n\n\"As to that, Gracie, I don't believe I thought anything about it. I\nwanted to pray for those boys, and so I prayed.\"\n\n\"And didn't you really shrink from it at all? How very queer! Flossy,\nI do believe nobody was ever so much changed by religion as you have\nbeen. I don't see what makes the difference. I'm sure I think I'm a\nChristian, but I could never do such a thing as that.\"\n\n\"Not if you believed it to be your duty?\"\n\n\"But I don't believe it,\" said the fair logician, her face flushing;\n\"I think it is out of place. I beg your pardon, Flossy, I don't mean I\nthink it sounded badly in you; but only that for me it would be horrid,\nand I couldn't do it.\"\n\n\"Then what are you talking about, my dear? If you should never consider\nit your duty, you would certainly never be called upon to do it.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\n\"OH, WHAT A NICE THOUGHT!\"\n\nTHIS very calm view of the question gave Gracie time to recover from\nher excitement, and to laugh at her folly.\n\nThen Mrs. Roberts said, still speaking very gently,\u2014\n\n\"I don't want to argue with you, dear, and I couldn't if I wished\u2014you\nknow I am a dunce about all such things; but I just want to ask you a\nlittle question. You need not answer me unless you choose\u2014not now, that\nis; perhaps some time we may want to talk about it. I would like to\nknow the reasons that people have for thinking that it is out of place\nfor a lady to kneel down with her Christian friends and speak to Jesus\nabout a thing that they unitedly desire, and that they believe he is\nable to do for them? If it is not proper to speak before them, why is\nit proper to speak to them on the same subject?\"\n\nThis question Gracie carried to her room for thought.\n\n\nMeantime, as Dr. Everett and young Reid went homeward, they had a talk\ntogether.\n\n\"When I found out that those boys had gone to the theatre to-night I\nwas completely discouraged,\" declared Reid. \"It seemed to me that our\nwork was a failure; I could almost see Satan laughing over the success\nof his scheme. I never felt so about anything in my life. And now it\nseems to me that perhaps the Lord will let it result in being the best\nthing that ever happened to us.\"\n\nTo all of which Dr. Everett made the apparently irrelevant answer,\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Roberts and his wife are singularly well mated; how perfectly they\nfit into each other's thoughts. Reid, you and I have a great deal to\nlearn from them.\"\n\n\"I have,\" said Reid meekly.\n\n\nYet another bit of talk closed this evening.\n\n\"M'Cullum has given me an idea,\" Mr. Roberts said to his wife as they\nsat together reviewing the day. \"Not a bad one, I fancy. I wonder when\nwe can act on it and watch results? There are tickets for other places\nbesides theatres. Why couldn't we furnish them for some entertainment,\nlecture, or concert, or something of the sort that would be really\nhelpful? The only difficulty is that there are few helpful places, as\nyet, within reach of their capacities. It takes an exceptional genius\nto hold such listeners.\"\n\nBut his wife, her face aglow, clasped her hands in an ecstasy of\ndelight.\n\n\"What a beautiful thought!\" she said. \"And how nice that it should come\nto you just now, when there will be such a splendid opportunity to put\nit in practice! Why, don't you know? Gough, next week\u2014half-a-crown\ntickets; on temperance, too! How grand! And, Evan, let us give them\neach two tickets. I want that Dirk Colson to take his sister. Perhaps\nhe will not, but then he may; one can never tell. O Evan, won't it be\nnice?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Mr. Roberts. \"As usual you are ahead of me. I had not\nthought of the two tickets apiece. That is a suggestion for their\nmanliness. Flossy, we'll try it.\"\n\n\nYet another bit of talk.\n\nThey shambled down the stairs from the second-rate hall at a late hour\nthat evening\u2014those seven boys; quiet for them, though the play had been\nexciting, and not remarkably moral, \"viewed\" from the standpoint of a\nChristian.\n\n\"After all,\" said Nimble Dick, breaking a silence with speech, as\nthough the subject of which he spoke had been under discussion among\nthem, \"after all, it was rather sneaking to bolt and say nothing; I\nkind of wish we hadn't done it.\"\n\n\"That's what I told you all along,\" said Dirk Colson with even unusual\nsullenness; \"but you would go and do it, and we was fools enough to\nfollow you.\"\n\n\"And I'll bet she had oysters or something!\" This from Jerry Tompkins.\nYou have probably no idea how hungry he was at that moment.\n\n\"They was goin' to do somethin' new to-night\u2014that there Dennis girl\ntold me so when I met her on the street yesterday; something that we\nwould like first-rate, she said\u2014 a bran-new notion.\" This was Stephen\nCrowley's contribution to the general discomfort.\n\n\"Well,\" said Nimble Dick, and the sigh with which he spoke the word\nwould have gone to Mrs. Roberts's heart, \"I s'pose it's all up now; I\nshouldn't wonder if we never got another bid; I wouldn't if I was them,\nI know that. And their old theatre wasn't no good shakes, after all.\nWe've been a pack of fools, and I don't mind owning it.\"\n\nWhereupon, having reached the corner, they separated and went glumly to\ntheir homes. And this is gratitude! What a pity Mr. M'Cullum, who had\nbeen smiling over his benevolence all the evening, could not have heard\nthem!\n\n\nThe weeks that followed this night were crowded with trifles on which\nhung important and far-reaching results. This is a very trite saying, I\nknow. All weeks are crowded with eventful trifles\u2014at least, we in our\nblindness call them trifles, although we are constantly discovering\ntheir importance, and being constantly astonished over them.\n\nAmong other things, the seven boys became nine, having taken to their\ncompanionship two choice spirits, apparently worse than themselves,\nand appeared at the South End Mission with all the bravado that boys\nof their stamp are apt to put on when they feel somewhat ashamed of\nthemselves. The consequence was that the trials which Mrs. Roberts had\nto endure from them, though a trifle less apparent to others, were not\na whit less distressing than usual.\n\nBut before the session was concluded they were treated to a sensation\nthat held them in silent astonishment for nearly five minutes. Any\nperson well acquainted with Alfred Reid could have told that he\nhad a plan in view, and was trying to carry it in the face of some\nopposition. He looked convinced, and Mr. Durant looked astonished and\ntroubled; there was much low-toned talk between them, and some shaking\nof head. Apparently, however, Mr. Reid came off victor, for his brow\ncleared, and he presently made his way to Mrs. Roberts's side and said\na few words, and must have been gratified by the sudden lighting up of\nher face and her eager,\u2014\n\n\"Oh, what a nice thought! Even if it fails apparently, it will not\nutterly, for the suggestion will help them.\"\n\nIn the course of time the new idea came to the front. There was to be\na festival, or a social, or an entertainment at the South End in the\ncourse of a few weeks\u2014a sort of anniversary of the starting of the\nmission. Among other work that was in progress, the decoration of the\nroom, involving the hanging of pictures, banners, mottoes, wreaths,\netc., required some strong arms and willing hands. Committees were to\nbe formed. Two weeks before, teachers had been appointed to prepare a\nlist of committees. It fell to young Reid to appoint the committee on\ndecoration. When he was called upon for his report, he came promptly\nforward, like a man ready for action, and commenced,\u2014\n\n\"A committee of four has been deemed amply sufficient for decoration,\nand I appoint for the purpose the following: Richard Bolton, Morris\nBurns, Miss Gracie Dennis, and Miss Annie Powell.\"\n\nThe teachers, who had been long at the mission, looked from one to\nanother with a bewildered air. Morris Burns they knew\u2014a clear-eyed\nyoung Scotchman, with willing hands and feet ever ready to run off\nerrands for all workers, a boy of nineteen or so, whom everybody liked,\nwarmhearted, unselfish, and thoroughly trustworthy. Annie Powell was\none of the older girls in Mr. Durant's Bible-class\u2014a sweet-faced,\nlady-like little factory girl, who would work in with Morris Burns\nnicely. Miss Gracie Dennis was Mrs. Roberts's beautiful young friend.\nAll the teachers knew her, and all thought it very kind in her to throw\nher strength and taste into the preparations as heartily as though she\nwere one of them. But who was Richard Bolton? Nobody knew. Yet their\nknowledge of business etiquette told them that he was chairman of the\ndecoration committee. Where was he? Not a teacher, certainly, for they\nwere intimately acquainted with one another; and they knew no such name\nin the one Bible-class made up of trustworthy helpers.\n\nOver in Mrs. Roberts's class, with the single exception of the teacher,\nthere was equal ignorance. The nine boys had stopped their restless\nmischief to listen, because there is a sort of fascination to boys\nin all the details of well-managed business. They liked to hear the\nappointments; but who Richard Bolton might be seemed not to occur to\none of them. It is true that Jerry Tompkins nudged Nimble Dick in\nanything but a quiet way with his elbow, and murmured, \"You've got a\nnamesake it seems in this 'ere job.\" Yet no light dawned on them.\n\nMr. Durant, who, it is possible, has not appeared to you in a\nfavourable light, for the reason that he was being much perplexed\nby the entirely new methods being introduced among the boys who had\nheretofore driven him to the very verge of desperation, was really a\nquick-witted man, and having succumbed to what he feared was a wild\nexperiment, knew how to help to carry it out properly. He came briskly\nto the front\u2014Alfred's committee being the last on the list\u2014and began\nhis work.\n\n\"The chairmen of these different committees will be kind enough to\nreport to me as rapidly as possible the time and place of their first\nmeeting for consultation, and I will make the announcements.\" Then he\nstepped to Mrs. Roberts's class. \"Bolton,\" he said, bending toward that\nastonished scamp, and speaking as though this were an every-day affair,\n\"you are chairman, I believe, of the decoration committee; where and\nwhen will you have them meet?\"\n\nImagine Nimble Dick's eyes! Nay, imagine the eyes and faces of the\nentire nine! It would have been a study for an artist.\n\nFor a moment Nimble Dick was speechless; then he managed to burst forth\nwith,\u2014\n\n\"What in thunder are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Your committee,\" said Mr. Durant politely, ignoring the manner of the\nquestioner. \"You must call them together, you know, to plan your work.\nWhere shall it be, and when?\"\n\n\"I ain't got no committee; and I ain't got no place to meet nobody; and\nI don't know what in thunder you're after.\"\n\nThen came Mrs. Roberts to the rescue.\n\n\"Why, Mr. Bolton, you can meet at our society parlour, you know. It is\nthe very place, and will be so convenient for Miss Dennis.\"\n\n\"What's to meet, and what's to do?\" said Dick defiantly. \"I ain't going\nto meet nobody.\"\n\n\"Why, it is just to hang mottoes and banners, and trim the room for the\nanniversary. Of course you'll help; I would have the meeting arranged\nthere by all means.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Mr. Durant quickly, as though he had received the\nanswer from the chairman himself. \"Now as to time, you ought to come\ntogether to-morrow evening if you could; there is a good deal to do.\"\n\n\"Mr. Bolton, couldn't you come up at six o'clock for once? Then you\ncould get your work all done before the time for our social. I can\narrange for Annie Powell to be there at that time; and, Mr. Durant,\ndoesn't Morris Burns work for you? Could he be present at six o'clock?\nThen I don't see but your meeting is nicely planned. You can be there\nat six, can't you, Mr. Bolton?\"\n\n\"I tell you I don't know nothin' what you are talking about.\"\n\nNimble Dick, who was rarely anything but good-natured, was surprised\nby the bewilderments of the situation into being almost as fierce as\nDirk Colson was habitually; the gaping amazement of his boon companions\nseeming to add to his irritation.\n\n\"But you will,\" said his teacher cheerily. \"It is an easy matter to\nexplain. Miss Dennis knows all about such things, and I'm going to\nhelp, though they haven't honoured me with an appointment.\"\n\nAt a sign from the lady, Mr. Durant stepped back to his platform and\nannounced,\u2014\n\n\"The chairman of the committee on decoration desires me to say that\nhis committee is called together to-morrow evening at the Young Men's\nSocial Parlours, No. 76 East Fifty-fifth Street, at six o'clock,\n'sharp,' as the chairman has another engagement at seven.\"\n\n\"I had to coin a name for the place of meeting,\" he said to Mrs.\nRoberts afterwards. \"I beg your pardon if it was wrong; but Reid has\nbeen giving me glowing accounts of that room, and you said something\nabout its being a social parlour, didn't you?\"\n\n\"It is a good name,\" said Mrs. Roberts. \"We have awkwardly called it\nthe 'new room.' I am glad it is christened. I will have some curtains\nhung through the centre to-morrow to make 'parlours' instead of parlour\nof it. I can see how a second room can be made useful in several ways.\"\n\nThus was the bewildering committee whirled into existence; the chairman\nthereof being still so dumbfounded with his position that he did not\nrouse until the laughing boys, by whom he was surrounded, began to\ntake in some of the fun of the situation, and to assail him right and\nleft with mock congratulations, ill-suppressed groans, hisses, and the\nlike. Then he turned towards them with new-born dignity that would have\nfitted Dirk Colson, and said,\u2014\n\n\"If you fellows don't shut up and behave yourselves something like\ndecent for the rest of the time, I'll chaw half-a-dozen of you into\nmincemeat as soon as we are out of this!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\n\"HAD HIS EXPERIMENT BEEN TOO SEVERE?\"\n\nDR. EVERETT was driving rapidly through the city\u2014at least, as rapidly\nas the crowded character of the streets would permit. He was out on\nprofessional duty, and had just been congratulating himself that his\nregular calls were now made for the day, and unless something special\nintervened, he should have a couple of hours free for the alleys.\n\nThat meant professional duty, too, and of the very hardest character,\none would suppose, as it brought him in contact not only with sickness\nin some of its most repulsive forms, but with abject poverty as well,\nand too often with loathsome forms of sin; yet he went about this\nwork with a zest that his regular practice did not furnish. This\nwas something done solely for Jesus' sake, and with an eye that was\nmanifestly single to his glory.\n\nHe had already selected his alley, and was planning how, when his\nhorses were safely stabled, he could make a crosscut to it, when his\neyes were held by two persons who were ascending together the stairway\nthat led to one of the public halls. His face darkened as he watched\nthem. Apparently they were engrossed with each other, and took no\nnotice of him; but there were reasons why he specially desired to keep\nthem in view. A network of carriages and waggons such as is common to\ncrowded thoroughfares blocked his path just then, and prolonged his\nopportunity to watch the two.\n\nThey made their way in a very leisurely manner up the long staircase,\nletting others, more in haste, pass them continually. Yet presently\nthey joined the group who were passing up tickets of entrance.\n\nThe doctor signalled a policeman, and entered into conversation:\u2014\n\n\"What is going on in Seltzer Hall?\"\n\n\"Well, sir, there's a kind of a concert, I guess. They play on goblets,\nthey say just common glass goblets\u2014and make fine music.\"\n\n\"An afternoon entertainment?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, as a kind of introduction, you know; they expect to get a\ncrowd for evening by this means.\"\n\n\"Do you know where tickets are to be had?\"\n\nThe policeman indicated a bookstore at his left by a gesture from his\nthumb, and said, \"Right here,\" and offered to secure some at once. He\nknew Dr. Everett; many of the policemen did.\n\nHis offer was accepted with thanks, and the doctor presently wound\nhis way out from the network with two green tickets in his pocket.\nHis plans for the afternoon had been suddenly changed. Instead of\nspending the time in Sewell Alley, he had decided to attend a musical\nexhibition, the instruments being goblets!\n\nHe must make all speed now, so he left the crowded street and dodged\nthrough several by-ways to the stables.\n\nNo use to keep his horses. \"She would be afraid to drive through such\ncrowds,\" he explained to himself, \"and I should be afraid to leave the\ncarriage standing.\"\n\nRushing out from the stables, he caught just the right street-car, and\nin a short space of time was ringing at Mr. Roberts's door.\n\nGracie Dennis was in the hall, dressed for the street.\n\n\"Ah,\" said the doctor, \"I am either fortunate or unfortunate, I wonder\nwhich? I had set my heart on having you for a companion to what I fancy\nmay be a unique entertainment. Is there another engagement in the way?\nI know this is a most unconventional method, but a doctor is never sure\nof his time.\"\n\nBut Gracie Dennis felt too well acquainted with Dr. Everett, and\nwas too young and ready for enjoyment, to be disturbed about\nconventionality. She merrily declared her willingness to be taken to\nwhatever entertainment the doctor had to propose. Mrs. Roberts was out\nwith her husband on business connected with church matters, and she had\nonly intended to walk a square or two for her health.\n\nOn the way the doctor was very quiet, Gracie having most of the talking\nto do herself. The truth was, he was trying to recall the faces of the\npeople he had seen crowding into the hall, to make sure that he was not\ntaking Gracie among people whom he would not care to have her meet.\nApparently the couple whose movements had changed all his afternoon\nplans were not a sufficient guarantee of respectability.\n\nHowever, his face cleared as he recalled one and another as being in\nthe crowd seeking admission; they might not be of the class with whom\nGracie was accustomed to mingle, but they were respectable people.\n\nGracie was in a merry mood. She understood enough of the doctor's busy\nlife to feel sure that this sudden resolve to be entertained was quite\nout of his ordinary line, and that of itself served to mark the hour as\nexceptional.\n\n\"He feels the need of a little every-day fun,\" she told herself, \"and\nI'll help him to have it if I can. Poor man! It must be doleful to go\namong sick and dying people all the time.\"\n\nThey were late at the hall; the concert was well under way; but there\nwere plenty of vacant seats. Dr. Everett swept his eye over the room;\nthen indicated to the usher just which seat he would have. It was one\nwhich commanded a view of the young man and woman who seemed to have\nsuch a mysterious influence over his plans.\n\nHe was relieved to find, quite early in the entertainment, that it\nreally was unique, and, in its way, well worth her hearing. Had the\nsurroundings been agreeable, he could easily have given himself up to\nenjoyment. However, they had been seated but a few moments when he saw\nby Gracie's startled eyes that she had seen and recognized at least one\nof the couple at their left.\n\nProfessor Ellis, in his usual faultless attire, lounged gracefully\non the seat in such a manner that his side-face was distinct; he\nrested a well-shaped arm on the back of the seat next him, and his\ndelicately-gloved hand almost, if not quite, touched the shoulder of\nhis companion.\n\nBoth he and the lady at his side gave extremely little attention to\nthe entertainment in progress. Apparently they had come thither for\npurposes of conversation. They kept up a continuous murmur of talk,\ninterspersed at intervals with rippling laughter, and really seemed so\nentirely absorbed in each other as to have at times forgotten that the\nhall was public, and that the attention of many was being turned toward\nthem.\n\nThe girl was pretty, extremely so, with an entirely different style of\nbeauty from Gracie Dennis; and a certain indescribable something in her\nface and manner would have told even the most casual observer that she\nmoved in a different circle. It was not her dress, unless that was a\nlittle too pronounced for the place and hour; but quite young ladies in\ngood society sometimes make a similar mistake. Neither was her manner\nobjectionable to the degree that you could have pointed to any one\nthing as offensive; yet you would have been sure, had you watched her,\nthat she was without the pale of what we call society.\n\nGracie Dennis watched her with a kind of fascination, becoming at last\nso absorbed with the watching, and the apparently troubled thoughts\nwhich grew out of it, that she gave but slight attention to Dr.\nEverett's occasional remarks, nor seemed to observe that at last, he\nlapsed into total silence.\n\nOnce, during the hour, the young woman glanced casually in their\ndirection, and the careless nod and free and easy smile with which she\nacknowledged Dr. Everett's presence drew a startled glance from Gracie\nto rest on him for a moment.\n\n\"Now I wish I had my horses,\" the doctor said, as at last they made\ntheir way down the aisle. \"I have a mile's drive up-town to take, and I\nthink the exercise might be good for you.\"\n\nGracie caught at the suggestion, and begged to be allowed to remain in\nthe bookstore below while he went for the horses.\n\n\"I want a ride, and I want to talk with you,\" she said simply.\n\nAs this was precisely what he wanted, he went for the horses without\nmore delay.\n\nMeantime, Gracie, in one of the windows of the bookstore, was supposed\nto be employed in examining a recent book, but in reality gave much\nattention to the couple who were crossing the street, or rather waiting\nfor an opportunity to do so.\n\nThey seemed in no haste, but were conspicuous, even in the crowded\nstreet, for their interest in each other. More than one policeman\nregarded them narrowly, as Professor Ellis stood with head bent toward\nthe lady, engaged in eager and animated conversation. It was just the\nattitude of absorbed interest with which he had so often listened to\nGracie\u2014not on the street, it is true, but in some crowded parlour\u2014and\nit had flattered her.\n\nIt made her frown to-day.\n\nThey were starting now to make the disagreeable crossing. He had taken\nhis companion's hand, preparatory to a leap over a muddy spot; but\nGracie could see that there was a pressure of it that was unnecessary,\nand, for the street, peculiar. His face, too, was distinctly visible,\nand the expression on it was what Gracie had seen before, but certainly\nshe supposed no other person had.\n\nAltogether it was probably well for Professor Ellis's peace of mind\nthat he did not turn at that moment and get a glimpse of the young lady\nin the bookstore. Instead he took his lady away, and they were lost in\nthe crowd.\n\n\nDr. Everett, making all haste with his horses, had still time for\nanxious thought. Had his experiment been too severe on Gracie? Was it\npossible that her interest in the man was such that the afternoon's\nexperience had been mixed with pain as well as with disgust? He could\nnot believe it possible that the pure-hearted young girl cared for such\na man as Professor Ellis. Yet there had been a look on her face when\nshe saw those two which startled and hurt him.\n\nWhen fairly seated in his carriage, he did not speak until they had\nthreaded the maze of waggons and reached clear ground. Even then, he\nonly said, \"Now for speed,\" and gave the horses their desire, until\ncrowds and business were left behind, and they were driving down a\nbroad avenue, lined on either side with stately yet quiet-looking\nhouses. Then he drew rein, and obliged the horses to walk; he had by\nthis time resolved on probing the wound, if there was one.\n\n\"I wish I knew just how much of a villain that man is.\" These were the\nsomewhat startling words which broke his silence.\n\n\"What man?\" Yet the very tones of Gracie's voice indicated that she\nknew of whom he was speaking.\n\n\"That man Ellis\u2014Professor, I think he is called. I have reason to be\nvery suspicious of him. By the way, Miss Gracie, I think he is an\nacquaintance of yours. Have you confidence in him?\"\n\nHow promptly and indignantly such a question would have received an\naffirmative answer two months before! What should she say now?\n\n\"In what respect?\" she faltered, more for the purpose of gaining time\nthan because she did not understand the question.\n\n\"Well, in any respect, I am almost prepared to say. I have not the\nhonour of the man's acquaintance; but whatever I hear about him, or see\nin him, I dislike and distrust. Just at present his ways are specially\ndisturbing. You noticed him this afternoon, I think! The young girl in\nhis company belongs to my Sabbath school. I have a deep interest in\nher, partly because she is the sort of girl who is always more or less\nin danger in this wicked world, and partly because she is capable of\nstrongly influencing another, who is a special prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of mine.\"\n\n\"Who is the girl?\" Gracie's manner was abrupt, and her voice\nconstrained. It was evident that she was making great effort to control\nherself, and appear indifferent to all parties.\n\nThe doctor took no notice of her constraint.\n\n\"Her name is Mason, Hester Mason. She attends the Packard Place Sabbath\nSchool, which you know I superintend. She is motherless, and worse than\nfatherless; is a clerk in one of the Fourth Avenue stores; and is, or\nwas, inclined to be what is called gay. I do not know that that term\nconveys any special meaning to you; in young men I think they call the\nsame line of conduct 'fast.' I hope and believe that you would not well\nunderstand either term; yet, I think, possibly, that watching her this\nafternoon in a public hall will give you some conception of the stretch\nthat there is between yourself and her.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\n\"SOME PEOPLE ARE HARD TO WARN.\"\n\nHAD Dr. Everett desired in a few words to show Gracie the gulf\nbetween herself and the man who had been the girl's companion for the\nafternoon, perhaps he could not have formed his sentence better.\n\nShe shivered visibly, and the doctor drew the carriage wraps more\ncarefully about her, while he continued:\u2014\n\n\"I would not want to give you a wrong estimate of Hester Mason, nor\nlead you to imagine for a moment that I believe a girl who serves\nbehind a counter cannot be a true lady. I wanted rather to explain to\nyou that her opportunities had been limited. She means to be a good\ngirl, I think; in fact, I may say I have the utmost confidence in her\nintentions. She is not a Christian, but a few weeks ago I had her\nname on my note-book as one who was almost persuaded. She has been\nfighting the question of personal religion for some time; her special\nstumbling-block being that she is quick-witted, and has quite a clear\nidea of how Christians ought to live, and can find very few who seem\nto her to be living what they profess. However, as I say, I have been\nvery hopeful of her until within a few weeks, when she came in contact\nwith this man, and I tremble for the result. He is constant in his\nattentions, and she is evidently flattered and dazed.\"\n\n\"How long has he known her? How did he become acquainted?\" Abrupt\nquestions still, asked in that curiously repressed voice.\n\nThe doctor's face was growing very grave and stern. He feared that\nthere was a real wound here.\n\n\"Inadvertently, Miss Dennis, it seems that both you and I are to blame,\nor, at least, are involved in the acquaintance. Do you remember a\nlittle incident which occurred in a street-car some six weeks ago? A\nyoung woman, in leaving the car, dropped a package, which you noticing,\ncalled our attention to, and pointed out the person crossing the\nstreet; and Professor Ellis announced his willingness to overtake her\nand return the package, as he was about to leave the car. Miss Mason\nwas the person in question, and Professor Ellis presumed on that very\nslight introduction to cultivate an acquaintance. I have learned that\nhe quoted my name in connection with the incident, and since that day\nhas been on terms of exceeding intimacy with Hester.\"\n\nGracie was surprised out of her reserve.\n\n\"I remember the incident perfectly; but the girl I saw this afternoon\ncannot be the one who was on the car.\"\n\n\"Yes; she was in holiday attire to-day, and in her working garb when\nyou saw her momentarily on the car. I remember a feeling of regret that\nProfessor Ellis should have so promptly volunteered to do your errand;\nyet I did not know what I dreaded. I simply shrank from the man, and\nwanted others to do so.\"\n\n\"Dr. Everett, what is his motive in showing her attention?\"\n\n\"I wish I knew. I can tell you what I greatly fear\u2014that it is to play\nwith the human heart; to see to what extent he can gain power over it.\nAnd in this case, certainly, it is a most cruel thing. The girl has\nno friends, no father or mother, to advise with or help her. She is\nbright and pretty, and is being shown glimpses of a world that seems to\nher like fairyland. She is dazzled, and one cannot blame her, for she\nhas neither carefully-formed judgment nor trustworthy friends to lean\nupon. Miss Dennis, you can judge from her manner this afternoon what\nis her knowledge of the customs of polite society. I do not think she\nhas an idea that she was conspicuous, save for her beauty and the fine\nappearance of her attendant. She is not one to shrink from what she\nwould consider legitimate public admiration, and this you can see but\nadds to her danger.\"\n\n\"But, Dr. Everett, you do not think, you cannot mean, that he intends\nto pay her special attention\u2014that he means anything more than the\ndesire to give her a little pleasure?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the doctor, speaking slowly but with firmness, \"you may\njudge, Miss Dennis, what I think\u2014what any honourable person thinks\u2014of\na man who bestows in public the sort of attentions which we saw this\nafternoon. You would have been insulted by them. The only reason that\nthis poor girl was not, is because she does not know any better. Did\nyou observe the flashing of a peculiarly set ring on her finger? I have\nreason to fear that it belongs to him, and that she believes herself\nspecially honoured in being asked to wear it.\"\n\nPoor Gracie's cheeks were flaming now. She had not observed the ring;\nbut she knew it well, and for one brief evening had worn it herself,\nand then had returned it to the owner with the assurance that she\ncould not bring herself to wear it without her father's consent. She\nremembered what a wound she had felt herself bestowing when he had\nlooked at her with those expressive, reproachful eyes, and replied that\nif she felt toward him as he did to her, she would not allow even a\nfather to come between them. And he had actually given that ring into\nthe keeping of this girl!\n\nThey rode on in silence, the doctor giving a hint to the horses that\nthey might go as fast as they chose. He was in great doubt and pain of\nheart. Could it be possible that this carefully shielded young girl was\ncaught in the toils of a man whom he believed to be an unprincipled\nvillain?\n\nIf so, had he been unnecessarily cruel in his revelations? Ought he to\ntake her home, or drive further and give her time to recover herself?\n\nCould he have understood what was passing in her mind, he would have\nknown better what next to say.\n\nThe simple truth was this: before she came to Mrs. Roberts, the child\nhad believed herself to be a martyr to the unreasonable prejudices of\nher stepmother. She had been led to feel that her father had turned\nagainst her, solely because of his wife's influence over him; and that\nthe wife was piqued because Professor Ellis had not paid her sufficient\nattention in the days of her maidenhood. This, the professor had\nsucceeded in teaching Gracie to feel, was the sole charge against him.\n\nHe was therefore an ill-used man, and therefore her heart went out\ntowards him in sympathy. It had not been at first a stronger feeling\nthan this; but, flattered by his attentions, so much more marked and\npolished than had ever been offered to the young girl before, she had\ntaught herself to believe that, but for her father's bitterness, she\ncould be to Professor Ellis what he delicately and vaguely assured her\nno one else could, and fill a place that hitherto in his lonely life\nhad been left void.\n\nShe had not engaged herself to him; indeed, he had never in actual\nwords asked her to do so. But to the young and innocent and\nwell-trained there is a language which speaks as clearly as words, and\nis held as sacred. Gracie had allowed herself to be looked upon as one\nwho was held by others from being more to Professor Ellis than she was,\nwho might always, perhaps, be held back; for she had resolved in her\nown sad heart that she would never marry against her father's consent,\nno, not if she were twice of age.\n\nOf late, strange revelations had come to her. She had measured\nProfessor Ellis with other men, Christian men, and he had appeared at\na disadvantage. Also, she had measured herself by the side of other\nChristian workers, and herself had appeared at a disadvantage. A vague\nunrest and dissatisfaction with her Christian experience were growing\non her. Moreover, she was growing interested in those boys as she had\nnot believed that it would be possible for her to be interested when\nshe first saw them. She began to believe that some of them at least\nwould be saved. She wanted to help to save them, and to help others.\nHer martyrdom dwindled rapidly into insignificance, until there would\npass entire days in which she did not once remember that she was an\nunhappy girl.\n\nAt last, but a week or two before this afternoon, she had taken her\naffairs in hand, and tried to look steadily at them. The result of her\nhours of thought and prayer was that she was bound to Professor Ellis:\nthat is, provided there should come a time in the dim and distant\nfuture when her father should give his consent, it would be her duty\nand her pleasure, because of what had passed between them, to marry\nhim. Still, she began to feel less amazed at her father's opinion of\nhim, less angry about it. She began to say to herself, softly and\npitifully:\n\n\"Poor, lonely man! He has no one to be his friend. He is not a\nChristian, and that is what makes so great a difference between him and\nothers. It is that which papa misses. But I must not desert him; I must\npray for him all the time, and work for his conversion. Then he will\ngrow to be the sort of man whom papa can like, and everything will be\nright.\"\n\nAnd while she said it, she was dimly conscious of a feeling of\nsatisfaction over the thought that she was very young, and that it\nwould be a long, long time yet before anything could be settled. And\nthat meantime, it certainly was not right for her to have anything to\ndo with Professor Ellis, only to pray for him. And that perhaps her\nfather would allow her to carry out a project that was under delightful\ndiscussion in the Roberts family\u2014namely, to remain in the city as a\npupil in the famous Green Lawn School. And she did not know,\u2014foolish\nlittle thing!\u2014that so far even as her heart was concerned everything\nwas wrong.\n\nPerhaps it would be difficult for me to explain to you\u2014that is, if you\ndo not understand without explanation\u2014what a turmoil she was thrown\ninto by this afternoon's experience. She was far from realizing as yet\nthat the uppermost feeling even now was not wounded love, but wounded\npride\u2014of what poor stuff she had been making a hero! Nothing had ever\nopened her eyes like this before. Was it possible that she had spent\nentire evenings with a man who stooped to set in unpleasant, even\nsuspicious light, not his own character only, but that of an ignorant\nyoung girl?\n\nIt would not do to plead a lack of knowledge in excuse for him; he\nmight be ignorant of the ways of the Christian world, but no one\nunderstood better the rules which governed society. During part of the\nafternoon she had been very angry with the girl; but after listening to\nDr. Everett, it began to dawn upon her that her friend had been playing\nwith the ignorance of a girl who probably trusted him fully. You are to\nunderstand that Gracie Dennis was the sort of girl who would be made\nvery angry by such a suspicion. The glow on her cheeks was not all\ncaused by the fresh air of the spring day.\n\n\"Dr. Everett,\" she said at last, breaking the silence, \"what do you\nthink he means by asking the girl to wear that ring, or by letting her\nwear it? Does he\u2014do you suppose that he has engaged himself to her?\"\n\n\"I wish I knew what he meant!\" Dr. Everett said again, a surge\nof indignation rushing over him. \"If he really meant anything so\nhonourable as that, it would be bad enough business for poor Hester;\nbut, as I said, I distrust the man utterly, and from my experience with\nthe world I have reason. From your knowledge of him, Miss Dennis, could\nyou suppose him to be honest and earnest in his attentions to that\ngirl?\"\n\nIt was a very plain question. It meant more to Dr. Everett than even\nGracie saw, but she saw enough to know that she was admitting an\nintimacy that made her blush. However, she answered steadily,\u2014\n\n\"No, I cannot think that he is honest or honourable.\"\n\n\"So I fear. Witness this afternoon. Gentlemen do not parade their\nfriendships before the public gaze, and that man knows it.\"\n\nThe doctor's voice was very stern. He was sure now that there was a\nwound, and that it was being probed. He believed in making thorough\nwork even with wounds; there would be more hope of genuine healing\nafterward.\n\nGracie's next question, if her companion had but known it, was a\nsingular one.\n\n\"Why have not people who are her friends warned her against him,\nand held her back from making such a false step, if she does it in\nignorance?\"\n\nO Gracie Dennis! How are warnings sometimes received, even by\ncarefully-trained girls, who have every reason to trust the love that\nwould shield them?\n\n\"Some people are very hard to warn,\" said the doctor. \"I have tried it,\nand I have a friend who has tried to help her; but the poor girl, you\nmust remember, has not been brought up in a Christian atmosphere\u2014has\nnever had a Christian friend who came with the authority of\nrelationship. If she had a good father, the way would be made so plain.\nAs it is, can't you see how naturally she distrusts the rest of us, in\nfavour of the man who makes special professions of friendship? I am not\nsurprised at Hester, I am only sorry for her.\"\n\nHad the doctor been carefully informed as to all the circumstances\nconnected with Gracie's intimacy with the professor, he could not have\nchosen words which would have touched her conscience more. Had not her\ngood father tenderly and patiently warned her? And had she not chosen\nto blind her eyes to all his words, and believe rather in Professor\nEllis than in him?\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\n\"PART OF THE GREAT WELL-TO-DO WORLD.\"\n\n\"I MUST call at this house,\" the doctor said, suddenly drawing rein\nbefore a quiet little house at the foot of a wide lawn. \"The gatekeeper\nof this American castle has a sick child whom I have promised to see.\nCan you hold the horses, Miss Dennis, or shall I tie them? This is a\nquiet spot, and they are gentle.\"\n\n\"I am not afraid of anything,\" Gracie said, eyes aglow as well as\ncheeks.\n\nAnd the doctor went into the house wondering whether Professor Ellis,\nif he could see her now, would not be afraid of her.\n\nOnce inside, he gave a start of surprise, almost of dismay, for the\nface which appeared at the open door of the sick-room belonged to Joy\nSaunders.\n\n\"You here?\" he said, trying to control the disturbed element in his\nvoice.\n\nShe answered quietly,\u2014\n\n\"I came out by street-car. Did you drive?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said abruptly; \"but I am not alone. How is the child?\" And he\nwent forward at once to his professional duties, leaving her to wonder\nover his manner.\n\nIt was peculiar certainly. Joy Saunders was used to abruptness from\nthis man, but there was a quality in it to-day that she did not\nrecognize. She went and looked out of the window, and saw Gracie Dennis\nholding the horses\u2014saw her red, \"red\" cheeks and flashing eyes, and the\npeculiar, haughty poise of her head, with which the stepmother at home\nwas well acquainted.\n\nShe did not know this Gracie Dennis save by reputation. Once Dr.\nEverett had asked her to call at Mrs. Roberts's, and had made her feel\nas though she were foolishly conventional in declining to do so.\n\n\"How is she ever to know you, according to the rules which trammel\nsociety? There ought to be some way arranged for Christians to be free\nfrom trammels.\"\n\nThis had been his comment; but he had not asked her again, and she had\nnever met Mrs. Roberts, nor yet Gracie Dennis. Yet she knew her very\nwell, and had watched her often as she passed. She knew instantly who\nshe was now, as she sat there in her haughty beauty, checking with\ndetermined hand the impatience of those horses. Oh, she knew more than\nthis! It was very apparent now why Dr. Everett was peculiarly abrupt,\nand\u2014well, yes\u2014embarrassed. She had almost thought that was the name of\nthe feeling, only it had seemed so absurd. And then Joy Saunders held\nher meek little head high, and told herself that he need not fear her\npresence; she could go as she had come, in the street-car.\n\nThe doctor came towards her now, speaking rapidly es usual:\u2014\n\n\"Joy, the child is very sick. There ought to be an experienced person\nhere to-night. Not you; I am sorry you came up. Do you think your\nmother would come? Will you ride down with me? I have Miss Dennis in\nthe carriage, but it is quite large enough for three, you know.\"\n\nThen Joy had turned away her head, holding it high, and said,\u2014\n\n\"No, thank you; I am going down in the street-car.\"\n\nAnd that blundering doctor drew on his gloves, saying to himself, \"I\ndon't know but that is best,\" and went out, only waiting to say to Joy:\u2014\n\n\"Will you ask your mother about it? I will see her as soon as I can get\naround. I wish you would go directly home from here\u2014will you?\"\n\nThen he lifted his hat to her, and sprang into his carriage and rode\naway with Gracie Dennis.\n\nAnd Joy Saunders waited for the next yellow car, and climbed into it,\nand told herself all the way down town that she wished she had stayed\nat the little house and watched all night by the sick child.\n\nThe thoughts that Dr. Everett had given to the entire matter were few.\nThey ran somewhat after this fashion:\u2014\n\n\"Joy here! And I'm afraid of the fever, from all I have heard. I shall\ntake her home as soon as possible. How will that poor little girl in\nthe carriage manage with a new acquaintance just now, I wonder?\n\n\"I am afraid it will be quite a strain. Still, I can do the talking,\nand let her be quiet. The main point is that I hoped she might have a\nsuggestion to make about Hester. If she could rouse herself to try to\nsave that girl, it would be the best thing she could do. If she only\nknew it, Joy is the one who could help her in that direction or any\nother.\"\n\nAs they dashed down the avenue, he was still occupied in wishing that\nhe had urged Joy to ride, and thus forced an acquaintance between her\nand the pretty girl at his side. He was not very patient with what he\ncalled the \"trammels\" of society. When there were two people so fitted\nto enjoy and help each other, as were Joy Saunders and Gracie Dennis,\nhe held it to be a waste in Christian economy that they should not know\neach other.\n\nToo much occupied with his thoughts and his driving to give heed to\npassers-by, he lost the careful bow that young Reid had for them as\nthey drew near the city's whirl again.\n\nGracie did not; she returned it with a slightly-heightened colour in\nher cheeks, and wondered if that young man knew Professor Ellis, and\nwhat he thought of him, and what he thought of her for being acquainted\nwith him.\n\nSometimes it seems to me a real pity that on occasion there could\nnot be some way of looking into one another's thoughts. So many\nmisunderstandings might thus be saved.\n\nFor instance, there was Reid, who went on his way with a clouded\nbrow. Where had Dr. Everett been? And why was Gracie Dennis with\nhim? Was it probable that he had been riding for pleasure? The bare\nsuggestion astonished the young man. He found that he had never before\ngiven room to the thought that Dr. Everett took time for pleasure.\nAllowing this to be the case, why had he not taken Joy Saunders with\nhim? Such a proceeding would have seemed altogether natural, though\nthe honest-hearted young fellow admitted to himself that, had he been\ntaking a ride for pleasure, the companion of his choice would not have\nbeen Joy Saunders. It was certainly a bewildering world.\n\nSo trying did young Reid find his thoughts on that evening that he\nactually set himself deliberately to learn whether the ride was the\nresult of chance or design. The consequence was, that he learned not\nonly of the ride, but of the afternoon entertainment at Seltzer Hall,\nwith glass goblets for instruments. This increased his astonishment,\nand did not lessen the gloom on his face.\n\nBut the two in the carriage, unconscious of the gloomy young man, or of\nthe sad-hearted young girl riding in a street-car, were almost silent\nduring the homeward ride, until just as they turned into the avenue\nthat led to Mr. Roberts's door. Then Gracie said:\u2014\n\n\"Dr. Everett, I should like to know that girl. There are some things\nthat I ought to say to her, and if I had a chance I would try to say\nthem in a way to help her.\"\n\n\"I will manage it,\" said Dr. Everett, speaking in a quick, relieved\ntone. He felt encouraged for Hester now, and greatly relieved about\nGracie. She might be wounded, but she was made of the material of which\nhe had hoped. She was not going to die herself, nor fold her hands and\nsee others ruined, merely because she had been deceived.\n\nHe bade her a cheery \"Good-afternoon!\" And drove away, feeling that,\nalthough he had been obliged to give up Sewell Alley, good work had\nbeen accomplished. He believed now that he understood the situation.\n\nHe was right about one thing: Gracie Dennis had not the slightest idea\nof dying. Her mood was better expressed, half an hour later, when she\nstood at the parlour window, and returned a low, lingering bow from\nProfessor Ellis, with a haughty stare from flashing eyes, looking out\nfrom an erect and motionless head.\n\n\nDirk Colson's brain was in a whirl. He had an important question to\nsettle. In his pocket were two blue tickets, promising to admit him to\nthe largest and finest hall in the city to hear the great temperance\norator. Dirk knew very little about orators, but he had heard of John\nB. Gough, and everything he had heard made him wish to have a glimpse\nof him. You will remember that Dirk was an imitator. He had heard that\nMr. Gough was also, and down deep in his heart the boy had an ambition\nto hear the man. Now was his unexpected opportunity. Of course he was\ngoing, but the perplexing thing was, what to do with that other ticket.\n\nThere was Mart! Oh yes, to be sure, he had not forgotten her; but\nwhat a strange thing it would be to take her to a lecture! He had\nnever taken her anywhere in his life. She had nothing to wear, though\nhe remembered at that moment that the mother had, by earnest effort,\nsucceeded in getting her shawl out of pawn.\n\nThere was one incentive for taking her; it would please Mrs. Roberts.\nDirk studied the thing for some time, to try to discover why she should\ncare, and had finally given up the problem as too great for him. Yet he\nwas sure she cared; there had been a wistful light in her eyes when she\nsaid, \"I thought possibly you might like to take that sister with the\ngolden hair,\" that he saw and interpreted.\n\nIt took him three days to decide what he should say, supposing he made\nup his mind to ask her.\n\nSeveral people were at work helping him, though he knew nothing about\nthat. Mrs. Roberts remarked one evening to young Reid that she wished\nshe knew a way to induce Dirk Colson to take his sister, without\nactually asking him to do so. She fancied that, besides the advantage\nwhich might possibly directly follow an evening spent in that way, it\nwould suggest new thoughts to the brother.\n\nThe young man caught at the suggestion, and wanted to help to carry it\nout. It was not an easy thing to do. He had not grown intimate with\nDirk Colson; in fact, that misguided young fellow rather resented any\nattempt at intimacy. He was, however, acquainted with Sallie Calkins;\nthe numerous trips he had made to their room during Mark's illness had\nbrought him into such constant and pleasant contact with Sallie and her\nbrother that they looked upon him as a tried friend. Sallie, he knew,\nwas a friend of the shy, golden-haired sister.\n\nSo one evening he went to call at the Calkins's room, with a vague hope\nof helping indirectly in bringing to pass Mrs. Roberts's desires.\n\nTo Sallie, he made known the wish that Dirk would take his sister to\nthe lecture, and secured from her a promise to help the scheme along,\nprovided it developed.\n\nAfter he went away, Sallie sat long at her sewing, making all alone,\nby a dim light, one of the most heroic little sacrifices that was ever\noffered \"in His name.\" To fully understand it, you must know that Mark\nCalkins had recovered sufficiently to take his place in the office\nwhere Dr. Everett had secured him an opening, and an employment that\nwould enable him to sit most of the time, thereby giving his injured\nlimb a chance to rest.\n\nAlso, Mark had been admitted to the Monday evening gatherings, and was\ndistinguishing himself there by his skill in reading and writing. Of\ncourse he had received two tickets, and equally of course, being the\nboy he was, he had planned to take Sallie with him to the lecture.\n\nGreat was Sallie's prospective pleasure! The event of her lifetime it\nwas to be. To walk with Mark through the crowded streets, both neatly\ndressed; to walk boldly forward with the throng, and present their\ntickets of admittance to the great hall, hitherto seen only from the\noutside; to move down the long aisles as those who had a right, and\nselect their seats unquestioned by police; in short, to be like other\npeople\u2014part of the great well-to-do world\u2014this was Sallie's joy.\n\nShe had washed and mended her best calico dress; she had sewed buttons\non the pretty cape, according to Mrs. Roberts's directions; she had\ntried on the neat bonnet which had been manufactured for her by Mrs.\nRoberts's own fingers, and altogether, Sallie had probably gotten,\nduring these two days, more enjoyment out of Gough's lecture than many\nothers who had heard him a dozen times ever secured. I do not think it\nany wonder that, as she rocked and sewed, and thought out her great\nthought, there fell tears on the work she was doing.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\n\"FOR YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT MAY COME.\"\n\nTHIS was the thought: Suppose Dirk Colson should want to take his\nsister. Sallie did not believe it in the least probable\u2014she had not\nthat amount of faith in Dirk Colson; but suppose he should, Mart could\nnot go, for the reason that she would have nothing to wear.\n\nAnd here was Sallie's pretty cape, which would cover the worst of her\ndress, and her pretty bonnet, which she knew would make a picture of\nMart; but if she lent them, it meant staying at home to Sallie. Could\nshe do it? Could she bear to think of such a thing? What would Mark\nsay? What would he do with his other ticket?\n\nWould she be likely ever to have another chance to go to that wonderful\nhall, and be like other folks?\n\nBut Mart had never been anywhere in her life.\n\n\"And I,\" said poor Sallie, catching her breath with a sob, \"have been\noften for a walk on the brightest streets, and looked in at the shop\nwindows, and everything. I 'most know I will help her to go if I can.\"\n\nYoung Reid had no conception of the sacrifice for which he had asked.\n\nIt is little wonder, surely, that Sallie's voice faltered that same\nevening, as she explained to Mart, who had slipped in for a bit of\ntalk, that if ever she wanted to go anywhere very much, she was to let\nSallie know, and she should have her cape and bonnet to wear. Then she\nhad anxiously planned for her a way to mend her dress, so that it would\nlook quite well under the cape, and she had even urged,\u2014\n\n\"Now do, Mart; if anybody should want you to go, don't say you won't,\nbut take your chance, for you don't know what may come.\"\n\nAlso she bore with patience Mart's scornful laugh and emphatic\nstatement that no chances ever came to her, and nobody ever wanted her\nto go anywhere.\n\nAs she talked she grew interested and eloquent; urged earnestly that\nMart should embrace the first opportunity to go somewhere, and wear her\nnew cape and bonnet. At the same time she was silent about the lecture.\nSuppose no chance should come? Then it would be doubly hard to Mart to\nhave had the possibility suggested. The same delicate reasoning had\nheld her from dwelling on her own prospects. Some people would have\nbeen very much astonished over the amount of delicate consideration for\nthe feelings of others which could be found in that little room.\n\nDirk loitered strangely over his meagre dinner the next afternoon. It\nwas late, for he had secured a position at last in one of the printing\noffices, and was apt to take his meals at any hour when it happened to\nbe convenient to do without him at the office. He had only been three\ndays at work, and Mart had taken little notice of the new departure,\nexcept to remark grimly that it would not last. But to Sallie she had\nboasted that Dirk had gone to work as hard as anybody. If somebody\ncould only have told Dirk that his sister ever boasted of him, it might\nhave helped him much during these days.\n\n\"What are you hanging around for? You've got all there will be to eat\nin this house to-day, and it is time you were off.\"\n\nThis was the ungracious manner in which the sister took note of his\nlingering. She was painfully afraid that he had already grown weary of\nregular employment, and the fear made her voice gruffer than usual.\n\nHis reply amazed her; in fact, it amazed himself.\n\n\"Mart, I've got tickets to a show\u2014a nice place\u2014and I want you to go\nalong.\"\n\n\"Humph!\" said Mart. \"That is a likely story!\"\n\nThen he grew earnest, displayed his treasures, and urged her\nacceptance, quite astonished with himself the while. Did he really want\nher to go, he wondered, or did he want to please Mrs. Roberts?\n\nYou would have been interested, an hour later, to have seen Mart\nskip up the rickety stairs leading to the Calkins' abode. You would\nprobably have thought that she endangered life or limb by her rapid\nmovements; but Mart was used to such staircases, and the news she had\nto communicate required haste.\n\n\"There's a chance!\" she said, breathless with speed and eagerness.\n\"Sallie Calkins, there's a chance, and you'd never guess how. Dirk he\nwants me to go to a show with him this very night! He's got tickets. It\nis a big show, where all the grand folks go. It is in the very biggest\nhall in this city, and Dirk he says I am to go. Sallie Calkins, do you\nmean it, truly, that I am to wear your lovely new bonnet and cape? Do\nyou suppose I can really go anywhere? I don't know why Dirk wants me to\ngo so much, but he coaxed and coaxed.\"\n\nPoor Sallie! She stooped quickly to pick up a pin from the floor, so\nthat Mart might not get a glimpse of her eyes with the sudden tears in\nthem. Yet, as she stooped, she made her final, grand sacrifice\u2014Mart\nshould go!\n\nThen she entered with entire abandon into the preparations. Not only\nher bonnet and cape, but her shoes\u2014new ones that Mark had bought her\nwith his first earnings after his illness\u2014were to attend the lecture.\n\nShe rejoiced over the excellent fit of the shoes. She did more than\nthis. As Mart watched the process of buttoning them, and remarked\ncomplacently that she shouldn't wonder if Dirk would buy her a pair\nsome day when he earned money enough, she kept her lip from curling\nwith an incredulous sneer. You will remember that she had not the\nslightest faith in Dirk.\n\nNeither must I forget that there was another thing to lend\u2014her comb\u2014in\norder that Mart's wonderful yellow hair might be for once reduced to\nsomething like order. And at the risk of leading you to think that\nSallie was altogether too \"\u00e6sthetic\" for her position in life, I shall\nhave to confess that this was her hardest bit of sacrifice, her comb\nwas so new and so pretty!\n\nHowever, it did its duty on Mart's tawny locks, and the transforming\neffect was marvellous. In fact, when all was ready, the cape adjusted,\nthe hat which Mrs. Roberts had shown her how to wear set on the yellow\nhead, Sallie said not a word, but went to the packing-box in the corner\nwhich served as a treasure cupboard, and drew forth the one possession\nabout which she had been utterly silent\u2014a little hand-glass which Mark\nhad brought her one winter evening just before he was hurt. A cheap,\nlittle, ugly glass which you would have turned from in disgust, saying\nthat it made your nose awry, and your chin protrude, and your eyes\nsquint, and was altogether horrid. But, held before Mart's glowing\nface, what a secret did it reveal!\n\nMart looked, and was silent, too, and went home in a hushed frame of\nmind to wait for Dirk. Home was deserted. The mother had dragged her\nwearied body out for a day of \"light\" work. The time had gone by when\nshe was able to do any that people called heavy. Where the father was\nnone of the family knew, and their chief hope concerning him was that\nhe would stay away as long as possible.\n\n\nI find myself longing to give you an idea of what that elegant,\nbrilliantly-lighted hall, with its brilliant audience, was to this\ngirl, and being unable to do it.\n\nWhen people live so far below us that our every-day experiences are to\nthem like a day at the World's Fair, it is very hard indeed to describe\nhow our special treats affect them.\n\nIt is a treat to everybody to hear Gough. How then can I tell you\nwhat it was to this girl and her brother? Dirk listened; he must\nhave listened well, for long afterward he was able to repeat entire\nparagraphs, and to imitate the manner of the great orator with\nremarkable skill.\n\nYet at the time he would have seemed to a close watcher to have been\nabsorbed in another way. He looked at Mart somewhat as he had on\nthat Sabbath when his acquaintance with Mrs. Roberts began. But the\nthought which had dimly haunted him that day blossomed on this evening.\nCertainly Mart looked like Mrs. Roberts! It might be folly to think so.\nDoubtless the fellows would make no end of fun of him if he should over\ntell them so, which he meant to take excellent care not to do; but the\nfact remained, that in Sallie's bonnet and cape, and, above all, with\nthe waves of hair floating about her, there was a look which instantly\nand strongly reminded him of that lady.\n\nThere was another listener at the lecture who was unexpectedly present.\nPart of poor Sallie's trial had been to tell her brother, who had been\nradiant for a week over the prospect of taking her, that she had with\nher own hand put away the blessing. How would Mark take it?\n\nDirk's forlorn-looking sister was no favourite of his. I think it would\nhave been very difficult to have convinced him that there was a trace\nof Mrs. Roberts in her face.\n\nBut such curious creatures are we that it actually hurt Sallie to see\nhow quietly he took the great sad news of her sacrifice. After the\nfirst start of surprise, he seemed preoccupied, and she could almost\nhave thought that he did not hear her explanation. She had much ado to\nkeep back the tears; but she had made a special little feast for him\nthat evening, with a white cloth on the table, and a cup of actual tea,\nand the cup set in a saucer. She was not going to spoil the scene with\ntears; so after a little she said cheerily,\u2014\n\n\"Nov you have a chance to do something nice for somebody. Who will you\ntake on your ticket?\"\n\n\"I was thinking,\" he answered slowly. \"You know it is a temperance\nlecture, and it is by a wonderful man. The fellows in the shop have\nbeen talking about him all day, and they say you just can't help\nthinking when he gets a-going, and I was just thinking, What if we\ncould get 'him' to go, and 'he' would listen, and get to thinking.\"\n\nThere are no italics that will give you an idea of the peculiar\nemphasis which the boy put on the pronouns.\n\nSallie understood; that \"he\" could mean but one person in the world.\n\nBut her brother must have answered the look on her face, for she spoke\nno word.\n\n\"Sometimes they do, Sallie. There was old Pete, you know.\"\n\nOh, yes, Sallie knew old Pete; everybody in that alley knew him\u2014a\nnotorious drunkard once, of the sort which people, even good Christian\npeople, are apt to pronounce hopeless. Yet now he wore a neat suit\nof clothes every day, and brought home twenty pounds of flour at one\ntime in a sack, and bought his coal by the barrel. Wonderful things\noccasionally happened in that alley.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Sallie, \"that is true; and old Pete wasn't much like him.\"\n\nThe tone spoke volumes. It would have almost angered her, even now, to\nhave had it hinted that old Pete was superior to that father, though\nhardly a person acquainted with the two but would have said that there\nwas more hope for old Pete, even in his miserable past, than for this\none. How they managed it, those two\u2014the difficult task of getting\nhim persuaded to go, and then the more difficult task of keeping him\nsufficiently sober to get there, would make a story in itself. I fancy\nthere are many such stories in real life which will never get told. The\nprobabilities are, if they were, some wise critic would pronounce them\nunnatural and sensational.\n\nSuffice it to say that the task was accomplished, and among the most\nattentive listeners to the great speaker that evening was Sallie's\nfather, while she sat at home and mended a badly torn jacket, and cried\nnow and then, and was glad and sorry and proud and frightened and\nhopeful by turns all that long evening.\n\nI am not sure but it was better for her that she sat at home. I don't\nknow just what she might have done had she been in the hall to see her\nfather, at the close of the meeting, shamble forward with the crowd and\nsign his name to the total abstinence pledge.\n\nShe might have screamed out in her excitement, or she might have\nfainted. For although there were those who said\u2014some with a sneer, and\nsome with a sigh\u2014that \"signing the pledge would not amount to anything;\nthe miserable fellow could not keep a pledge to save his life!\" Sallie\nwould have thought nothing of the kind. She had faith in her father's\nword.\n\nIt is a wonderful stimulus to have some one who believes in us.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\n\"WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO ACCOMPLISH?\"\n\n\"DO you know,\" said Mrs. Roberts, addressing Gracie Dennis, who, with\nyoung Reid, had waited in the hall for her to join them (they were\nready for the lecture, and were to take up Mr. Roberts on the way)\u2014\"do\nyou know that I have a desire which I see no way of realizing? If Mr.\nColson should bring his sister with him to-night, I should like so much\nto get possession of her and bring her home with me. But I have been\nplanning all day, and see no possible excuse for such an apparently\nwild proceeding.\"\n\nI want you to notice how naturally Mrs. Roberts said \"Mr. Colson.\" She\nnever talked about Dirk under any other name; she even taught herself\nto think of him as \"Mr. Colson.\" Consequently, when she spoke the name\nin his presence, there was not a trace of unnaturalness in tone or\nmanner. The others tried in vain to follow her example. Dr. Everett\ncould not speak of him in this way without slight hesitation and a\ntouch of embarrassment.\n\n\"The truth is,\" said he, \"I think 'Dirk' all the week, and on the\nSabbath I find it impossible to reach up to 'Mr. Colson' without an\neffort.\"\n\nThere was no touch of \"reaching up\" or reaching down about Mrs.\nRoberts's talk with her pupils. It is possible that this is one link in\nthe chain of influence which she was weaving around them.\n\nGracie Dennis's face expressed curiosity, and when they were seated in\nthe carriage, she referred to the cause:\u2014\n\n\"But, Flossy, I cannot imagine why you should want to do such a thing.\nIt will certainly be too late to-night to try to get acquainted with\nher. I should think some time when you could have an unbroken evening\nwould be the better for experimenting.\"\n\n\"For some sorts of experimenting it would,\" Mrs. Roberts answered,\nsmiling quietly; \"my experiment, in part at least, was to see how the\npink room might impress her.\"\n\n\"Flossy Shipley!\"\n\nWhen Gracie took refuge in that name, her hostess knew she was not only\nmuch excited, but a trifle disapproving; at such times she made haste\nto change the subject.\n\nIt happened that the thing for which she had been planning shaped\nitself so naturally as to give not the slightest colour of\npremeditation to the act.\n\nWhen Dirk and his sister worked their way through the dense crowds\nto the open air, they discovered that it was raining heavily. For\nalmost the first time in her life the fact struck terror to Mart\nColson's soul. Ordinarily no duck could have been more indifferent to a\nrain-storm than herself. On this evening she gave vent to her dismay in\nshort, expressive words,\u2014\n\n\"Sallie's bonnet!\u2014And cape!\" This last after a moment's thought. \"And\nshoes!\" she added, as the magnitude of her troubles grew upon her.\n\nDrawn up close to the sidewalk stood a carriage and a pair of horses\nthat Dirk could not help giving admiring attention to, despite the\nrain. A fine horse always held his attention. No thought of the\noccupants of the carriage came to him, not even after a head leaned\nforward and a hand beckoned; of course it was beckoning to somebody\nelse. Then a clear voice spoke:\u2014\n\n\"Mr. Colson.\"\n\nHe started quickly forward; there was but one person who ever said \"Mr.\nColson,\" and besides, that voice belonged only to one.\n\n\"I want your sister to go home with me. It is raining so hard that she\nought not to walk, and I should like very much to have her stay with me\nto-night. Won't you ask her to, please?\"\n\nIf Mrs. Roberts had been asking a favour, instead of conferring one,\nher voice could not have been sweeter and more winning.\n\nDirk went back to his sister, too much bewildered by the state of\naffairs even to express surprise. \"Mart,\" he said, \"she wants you.\"\n\nA quick spring to the sidewalk, and young Reid was standing beside Mart.\n\n\"It is raining so hard,\" he explained, \"Mrs. Roberts would be very glad\nif you would come.\"\n\nAnd Mart, thinking of nothing at all save Sallie's bonnet and cape and\nshoes, turned toward the waiting carriage.\n\nMr. Reid had his umbrella raised, and carefully shielded the bonnet,\nassisting its wearer to enter the carriage with as much courtesy as he\nhad bestowed on Gracie Dennis but a few moments before. Not a movement\nwas lost on the watching Dirk.\n\nWhen the door was closed and the good-nights had been said\u2014Mrs. Roberts\nleaning from the carriage again for that purpose\u2014and when the horses\nhad dashed around the corner, he still occupied his position on the\ncurbstone, gazing down the street, gazing at nothing unless he saw a\nreflection of his own bewildered thoughts.\n\n\"Come!\" said a policeman who knew him, and was therefore suspicious.\n\"What are you hanging about here for? Move on!\"\n\n\"Humph!\" said Dirk, as he slowly took his hands out of his pockets,\neyes still fixed on the corner where the carriage had turned. \"What if\nI should?\"\n\nSomething in his eye would have told Mrs. Roberts, had she been\nthere, that he meant more than moving down the street, though that he\npresently did, regardless of wind and rain.\n\nMeantime the bonnet and cape in the carriage stepped somewhat into the\nbackground, and the girl who wore them allowed herself once more to\nthink of her individuality, and to wonder at her position. She sat bolt\nupright on the edge of the soft, gray seat, and gazed about her as well\nas she could by the glimmer of the street lamps. She in a carriage!\nMart Colson sitting on a back seat, beside a grand lady, and rolling\ndown the avenue! Who would have supposed that such a thing could have\nhappened to Sallie Calkins's bonnet?\n\nMrs. Roberts recognized the bonnet and cape with a smile of\nsatisfaction. She had studied much over the possibilities of this\ngirl's costume. Was it probable that she had anything suitable to wear\nto a lecture? She had passed the cellar where the girl lived but once,\nand had had but one glimpse of her; yet these glimpses had been enough\nto render it highly improbable that she had any street costume. Then\nhad Mrs. Roberts canvassed the possibilities of getting a street suit\nfor her; there were apparently insurmountable difficulties in the way.\nShe was too utterly unacquainted with the ground to venture. Besides,\nthere were reasons for believing that anything of value would find its\nway from that cellar to a pawnbroker's in a very short space of time.\n\nHaving spent hours over many different schemes, and rejected each\none as liable to bring disaster, Mrs. Roberts was obliged to betake\nherself to prayer. If the watching Saviour wanted her to work through\nthe medium of this lecture on this particular child of his, he could\ncertainly see that she was present; could furnish her with clothes to\nwear, either through herself or some other of his servants. She would\nwait and watch.\n\nNot once had she thought of Sallie Calkins and the new bonnet that\nher own fingers had helped to fashion; yet here it was beside her on\nthe head of this girl, toward whom she was drawn! The fact made Mrs.\nRoberts radiant.\n\nShe said almost nothing to the startled prisoner at her side, beyond a\nmurmured, \"So glad you let me carry you home with me!\" Then she drew a\nbright-coloured wrap about her, and left her to her amazement, while\nthe eager tongues of the rest of the party talked continuously.\n\n\nBy the way, you are not acquainted with the pink room, I think. You\nshould see it before it is invaded for the night. Large it is. I\nthink little people sometimes have a peculiar fondness for large\nrooms; Mrs. Roberts had. The walls were tinted with what might be\ncalled a suggestion of pink, with just a touch of sunset gold about\nthe mouldings. The carpet was soft and rich; it gave back no sound of\nfootfall. It was strewn with pink buds; some just opening into beauty,\nsome half-blown. Accustomed to the sight of elegant carpets as you are,\nyou would almost have stooped to pick one of these buds, they looked so\nreal. The curtains to the windows were white, but lined with rose pink;\nthey were looped back with knots of pink ribbons. The bed was a marvel\nof pink and white drapery; so was the dressing-bureau. The easy-chairs\nwere upholstered in soft grays with a pinkish tinge; and the tidies,\nlavishly displayed, were all of pink and white.\n\nThere was nothing conventional about the room. A professional would\nhave been shocked by some of its appointments. Many a lady of wealth,\naccustomed to having things as \"they\" decree, would have been more than\ndoubtful over the pink ribbons and the profusion of white drapery.\nAside from the carpet, and a choice picture or two, there was nothing\nespecially expensive about the furnishings. It was simply a room in\nwhich Mrs. Roberts had allowed her own sweet little fancies to take her\ncaptive.\n\nThe gas was lighted; the door was ajar into a toilet-room; a lavish\ndisplay of great, beautiful towels could be seen as you peeped in, and\nvarious touches told of an expected guest. Flowers were blossoming\non the mantle, and a tiny vase which stood on a bracket near the\ntoilet-stand held a single rose of a peculiar hue and perfume, which\nhad blossomed for this hour\u2014at least, Mrs. Roberts thought it had.\n\nInto this room, in all its purity and beauty, went Sallie Calkins's\nbonnet and cape and her strong, new, thick shoes; and the wearer\nthereof pushed the bonnet away from her flushed face, and stood and\nlooked about her.\n\nDownstairs they discussed in curious tones not her, but the mistress of\nthe mansion.\n\n\"Flossy, I do think you are too queer for anything! Why don't you have\nher go to Katy's room? Katy is away for the night, you know, and I'm\nsure her room is as neat and pretty as can be. Imagine what a contrast\nit would be to anything that she has ever seen!\u2014Mr. Reid, you ought to\nsee the room into which she has been put. There isn't a more elegant\none in the house. Some of its furnishings are so delicate that I hardly\nlike to touch them. What sort of a disease is it that has taken Mrs.\nRoberts, do you suppose, to send her there?\u2014Flossy, she will get no\nrest to-night; she will be afraid of that immaculate bed.\"\n\nThis, of course, was Gracie Dennis.\n\nMr. Roberts looked from her to his wife, his face smiling, curious, yet\nwith a sort of at-rest expression.\n\n\"What do you hope to accomplish, Flossy?\" He asked the question as\none who was pleased to watch a new experiment, yet felt sure that the\nexperimenter had an end to attain which would justify any measures that\nshe might take. Mr. Roberts had believed in his wife when he chose her\nfrom all others; but he was learning to believe in her in a peculiar\nsense, as one led by a hand that made no mistakes.\n\nShe turned to answer his question, her face bright, yet half puzzled:\u2014\n\n\"I am not sure that I can explain to you what I hoped for,\" she said;\n\"I caught the idea from Mr. Reid.\"\n\n\"From me!\" and the young man thus mentioned looked so astonished and\nincredulous that Gracie laughed.\n\n\"He is sure he never thought of anything so wild,\" she said gaily.\n\"Flossy, you must find a better excuse than that.\"\n\n\"Yet it was something that he said.\u2014Do you remember telling me,\nnot long ago, about your sister's idea that all the world had lost\nits place because of sin; that God intended everything here to be\nbeautiful, and all life to be bright with joy, and that Satan had\ngotten hold of men's lives, and was trying to ruin them, and that every\nbeautiful creation was God's picture to the world of what his intention\nhad been? I'm telling it poorly; but it made a very deep impression.\nThis girl's face, you know, is beautiful. It is what God meant some\nfaces to be\u2014at least, I mean he has given her the frame for a face of\nbeauty. I have a vague, half-understood sort of wish to give her a\nglimpse of harmony\u2014something that will fit her golden hair and lovely\ncomplexion\u2014and see what she will think of God's idea, and whether she\nwill understand that it is sin which has spoiled it, and whether she is\nwilling to serve the author of her ruin. I don't believe I am making\nmyself plain, but I know what I mean, at least.\"\n\n\"If we do not, I think it must be because you have caught a thought\nfrom God that we are not able to reach up to.\"\n\nIt was Mr. Roberts who made this reply. Something in his wife's\nexperiment had deeply moved him.\n\nAs for Mr. Reid, his face lighted, as it always did, at the mention of\nhis sister's name.\n\n\"Sometimes I almost think that it is Esther still at work, and that He\nlets her work through this woman.\"\n\nIt was what he said to Gracie Dennis in an aside. Mrs. Roberts had\nalready gone to see, in person, to the comfort of her guest.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\n\"O LORD, TAKE DIRK TOO!\"\n\nSHE found her standing before the mirror. By reason of the fact that\nshe understood no pretty trick of braid or curl, her long yellow hair\nhung just as nature had made it, with no waves or ripples save those\nwhich had grown with its growth. It fell about her now like a sunset\ncloud. She had taken from the vase near at hand a rose, which she had\npushed in among the masses of hair, with no knowledge as to how it\nshould be arranged, or indeed thought; yet the effect was something\nwhich made Mrs. Roberts give an involuntary start of admiration.\n\nStill it was evident that, though apparently gazing at herself, she was\nthinking away beyond herself. It is doubtful if at that moment she saw\nthe flower or her own reflection, or knew that she was looking. Her\neyes had the faraway expression which one sometimes sees in great power\non faces like hers.\n\nShe turned as Mrs. Roberts, having softly knocked and received no\nanswer, softly entered. And her first words indicated the intensity of\nher thought, whatever it was.\n\n\"Dirk has 'got' to go there!\"\n\n\"Go where?\" asked Mrs. Roberts, startled out of the words she meant to\nspeak\u2014startled by the hint of power in the voice and manner. \"Of whom\nare you thinking, my dear girl, and where do you want him to go?\"\n\n\"I'm thinking about Dirk, ma'am; I thought about him all the\nevening\u2014the man made me; and I've made up my mind. He's 'got' to go to\nheaven!\"\n\nI suppose I cannot give you an idea of the force in her voice. It was\nas though a resolution, from which there could be no appeal, had been\ntaken, and the person resolving felt her own power to accomplish. It\nwas altogether an unexpected answer to Mrs. Roberts. She did not know\nwhether to be half-frightened or to laugh.\n\nShe sat down in one of the easy-chairs to study the girl, and consider\nwhat answer to make. Mart, meantime, turned back to the survey of\nherself in the mirror, or to the survey of whatever she saw there, and\ncontinued talking:\u2014\n\n\"I never knew much about heaven. You may guess that if you have ever\nbeen in our alley. Only lately, Sallie Calkins she's been telling me\nwhat you told her, and I had a kind of notion that you must know what\nyou was talking about, and that it was for rich folks and grand folks\nlike you; but the man told about that Madge, you know, to-night\u2014an\nawful drunkard and swearer, and all that\u2014how she reformed and went to\nheaven.\n\n\"Dirk ain't no drunkard, but he will be. Everybody says he will,\nbecause father is such an awful one. Mother, she's never had no hope of\nhim. She says father didn't drink till he was most twenty, and then he\nbegun; and she's looking for Dirk to begin, and I haven't thought he\ncould help it either. What if he doesn't care for it much yet? He will,\nit's likely. I've never told nobody that, not even Sallie; and I've\nbeen mad at mother every time she said any such thing. But all the time\nI've been expecting him to begin; and I know well enough when once they\nbegin how it goes on.\n\n\"But that man to-night told things that made a difference. He says that\nGod can keep them from wanting to drink, and help them right straight\nalong; and that they can go to heaven as well as the best one. I've\nwanted nice things for Dirk all my life; but I never saw no way to get\nthem, and it made me mad. To-night I saw a way, but I never had no kind\nof a notion how heaven looked till I come into this room, and see the\nlight and the flowers and the shine, and another room spread out there\nin the glass; and now I know, and Dirk shall go.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts was in no mood for laughing; the tears were dropping\nslowly on the flower she held in her hand. Mart saw in the glass just\nthen a sight which seemed to add to her surprise. She turned wondering\neyes on her hostess.\n\n\"What are you crying for?\" she asked. \"Don't spoil the flower; it is\nlike the one Dirk brought me once. He said you sent it to me. I kept\nit 'most a week. I took it over to Sallie's, and she got fresh water\nfor it every day, somehow; and it was then she begun to tell me what\nyou said about heaven, and I thought if God had made such flowers as\nthat for you, it was likely he had made a heaven for you. But I didn't\nbelieve it was for Dirk till to-night, and I didn't have no kind of\na notion how it looked till just now. Do you believe what that man\nsaid\u2014that folks like Dirk can go? Of course, if Madge went, why, Dirk\nwould have a right. He is bad, just because he has to be. He never had\nno chance to be anything else; and he ain't very bad, anyhow\u2014nothing to\ncompare with some.\" Her voice was almost fierce in its earnestness; she\nwas beginning to resent the creeping doubt that Mrs. Roberts's silence\nsuggested.\n\nCareful words must be spoken now. What if this awakening soul should be\nturned aside? No wonder that the unspoken words were prayers.\n\n\"Dirk 'has' a right to go to heaven,\" she said steadily, sweetly;\n\"there is not the shadow of a doubt as to his right. No one in the\nworld\u2014not Satan himself\u2014can deprive him of it; and it is not only his\nright, but his 'duty' to go.\"\n\n\"Then he shall!\"\n\nI wish I could give you an idea of the strength in the girl's voice. It\nalmost carried conviction with it to Mrs. Roberts's heart.\n\n\"Come and sit down,\" she said, and she drew her towards one of the low\ncushions.\n\nIf Mart sat on that, her head would be just where a gentle hand could\nstroke the masses of hair.\n\n\"Let me talk with you about this. You are mistaken in one thing. Dirk\nis very bad. He is bad enough to shut him out of heaven for ever.\"\n\nThe girl started, and tried to fling off the caressing hand.\n\n\"So are you,\" said the gentle voice.\n\n\"Oh 'me'! Don't talk about me. Who ever said I wasn't bad? Let me go; I\nwant to go home. I don't care how hard it rains.\"\n\n\"And so am I,\" continued the gentle voice.\n\nThe girl on the cushion ceased struggling to free herself from the\ncaressing touch, and remained motionless. \"Let me tell you of something\nthat we have each done a great many times. We have been asked and urged\nand coaxed, day after day and year after year, to accept an invitation\nto go to this very heaven, and we have paid no attention at all; and\nthis after Jesus Christ had given his life to make a way for us to go.\nIs not that being bad?\"\n\n\"Dirk he never had no invitation\u2014never heard anything about it.\"\n\n\"Yes, he has,\" speaking with quiet firmness. \"The Lord Jesus Christ\ntold me to invite him, and I have done so a great many times, and he\nhas made no answer; and Sallie Calkins has invited you, and you have\ntreated it in just the same way.\"\n\n\"I didn't believe it.\"\n\n\"Isn't that being bad? What has He ever done that you should refuse to\nbelieve his word, when he died an awful death to prove to you that he\nwas in earnest?\"\n\n\"You said Dirk had a right to go.\"\n\n\"So he has. Jesus Christ has given him a right if he will. I have\ninvited you to my house, and asked you to spend the night in this room,\nand sleep in this bed. Has any person a right to keep you from doing\nso?\"\n\n\"No.\" An emphatic nod of the head, and a lingering, almost loving look\nat the white bed behind her.\n\n\"Then cannot you truthfully say that you have a right to be here?\nMy dear girl, it is so faint an illustration of what Jesus Christ\nhas done to give you a right to heaven, that I almost wonder at your\nunderstanding it. But can you imagine something of how I should have\nfelt had I urged you to come to me night after night, for weeks and\nyears, and you had turned from me with no answer, or else with scorn?\"\n\n\"You wouldn't have kept on asking me.\" Mart spoke with the assurance of\none who had firm faith in her statement.\n\n\"No, I presume I should not. I would have said, after the third or\nfourth invitation, 'If she really will not have anything to do with me,\nI cannot help it.' And I should have tried to forget you. This is one\nof the many differences between Christ and me. He waits, and asks, and\n'asks.' How long will you keep him waiting?\"\n\nI have given you only the beginning of the conversation. It was long\nere it was concluded.\n\nDownstairs Mr. Reid waited as long as he could, curious to know the\nresult of Mart's first impressions. Then he went away, and Gracie went\nto her room, and the house settled into quiet. And Mr. Roberts in the\nlibrary waited for his wife, while she told over again, with tender\nwords and simple illustrations, the \"old, old story,\" so fitted to the\nwants of the world.\n\nHow many times has there been a like result!\n\nIt was midnight when they knelt together, the fair child of luxury and\nthe child of poverty; but the Saviour, who intercedes for both, bent\nhis ear, and heard again the cry of a groping soul seeking him out of\ndarkness, and held out his loving, never-failing arms, able to reach\ndown to her depth, and received her to himself. Who can tell that\nstory? Who can describe how heaven seemed to the girl just then?\n\nIt was not what Mrs. Roberts had expected. I cannot even say that it\nwas what she had hoped for. Her faith had not reached to such a height\nat all. She could hardly have put into words what she hoped. When she\nventured to try to tell it to the friends in the parlour and to you, I\ndoubt whether you understood. She thought to get a hold on the girl;\nto show her something of God's beauty and love, as it shone through\nherself; to make her long after something her life did not give, and\nto gradually lead her to seek after satisfaction in Christ. A long\nprocess\u2014something that should unfold gradually, with many discouraging\ndrawbacks, and some days that would look like utter failures. She had\nschooled herself to be prepared for this; but she had not looked for\nHim to exert his mighty power to save in a moment. How it had touched\nher to find a soul hungry, not for itself, but for a brother, I shall\nnot attempt to tell.\n\nThe first words she said, after she went back to her waiting husband a\nlittle after midnight, were these:\u2014\n\n\"'He could not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief.'\nI think that is what is the matter with the world to-day. I wonder\nif He would not be pleased with one who could throw herself at his\nfeet with a childlike abandon of faith, and expect wonders, yes, and\nimpossibilities, just as a child feels that anything can be done\nby father? God has shamed my faith to-night. It is as though I had\nasked for a crumb of bread, and he gave me the entire loaf. That girl\nupstairs has not heard of him before as a Saviour for her\u2014has never\nthought of such a thing, or, at least, dreamed of its possibility; and\nyet she has given herself to him. And, Evan, what do you think were the\nfirst words she said?\n\n\"'O Lord, take Dirk too!'\n\n\"She is on her knees at this moment praying for him. If you could have\nseen her face when it first dawned upon her that she could tell God\nabout him, and ask for his mighty power to be exerted in his behalf, it\nwould have been a picture for your lifetime. O Evan, Evan, why can we\nnot expect great things of God?\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\n\"AN AWFUL PROBLEM!\"\n\nISN'T it strange the ways the Lord takes to answer prayers?\n\nMuch prayer had been made for Dirk Colson, but few had thought of his\nsister. Sallie Calkins, it is true, had come with trembling steps\ninto the light of Christ's love, and had immediately desired to have\nMart enjoy it with her, but was very trembling and doubting as to her\nability to reach Mart, or to influence her in the right direction. She\nsent the bonnet and cape to the lecture with a prayer, but she did not\nlook for the prayer to be answered. Verily, He has to be content with\nfaith \"less than a grain of mustard-seed.\"\n\nWas the rest of the story an answer to prayer? We are to remember that\nhe has strange ways. Events startling enough in their import followed\neach other in rapid succession. In the first place, Dirk's father,\npoor, wrecked man, returned no more. Whether he had wandered among the\nnetwork of railroads which lined the southern portion of the city and\nlost his life there, or whether he had fallen into the river, or just\nhow he had disappeared, could not be discovered.\n\nThere were three men killed by an accident on the road one night, but\ntheir disfigured bodies were buried before Dirk heard of it. There was\na man seen struggling in the water off the lower wharf one evening, but\nhe sank before help could reach him, and his body was not recovered.\nThere were half-a-dozen men killed by a boiler explosion, but that was\nnot heard of in time to look into it. There were so many ways in which\nthe wreck might have gone out of life and left no sign. They were safe\nin supposing that he was intoxicated, and that was about all they could\nbe perfectly sure of concerning him\u2014that, and the fact that he came no\nmore. Of course, there was no such search for him as is made for the\nman of respectability and position.\n\nTo one who had some idea of the worth of a soul, it was pitiful to see\nwhat a tiny ripple this disappearance made on the surface of life.\n\nA moment of startled questioning by those who lived in the immediate\nneighbourhood; a few women with aprons thrown over their heads\ncongregating in groups around the pump or before the door of the\nbakery; a crowd of dirty children, stopping their play for a moment,\nand speaking lower: then the tide of noisy, fighting, swearing life\nwent on.\n\nOne was gone out from it. Whither? None knew, few cared; and there were\nsuch crowds and crowds left, how could he be missed?\n\nOne missed him\u2014an abused, insulted, down-trodden woman\u2014one whom,\nyears before, he had promised to love and cherish, until death parted\nthem, and had broken the vows almost as soon as taken, and never\nrenewed them again. Yet that woman wept bitter tears over his absence;\nwatched for him, listened nightly for his staggering footsteps; rose\nup from her heap of straw in the corner in the middle of the night,\nand set wide-open the cellar door, and listened to the angry voices\nfloating down to her from some drunken brawl further up the street,\nif, perchance, she might hear his; listened, and held her breath, and\nquivered all over with hope and fear; then crept back to her miserable\nbed, covered her head with the ragged quilt, and cried herself into a\nfew hours of forgetfulness.\n\n\"She is crying herself to death about him!\" Mart said. There was\nsurprise mingled with awe in her voice.\n\nShe told it to Dirk, and the two stood thoughtfully for a moment\nlooking out at the one window. They carefully avoided looking at each\nother. They did not understand. To them there was simply relief in the\nfather's absence. They had no trace of love for him in their hearts.\nThe word \"father\" meant nothing to them but misery.\n\nStill there was that in them which respected the mother's grief; they\ntried to shield her. Dirk, of his own thoughtfulness, brought home some\ntea in a paper, and bought half a pint of milk at the corner dairy.\nAnd Mart took lessons of Sallie, and made a delicate slice of toast,\nand borrowed Sallie's one cup and saucer to serve the tea in. She was\ndisappointed that the mother cried, and could hardly drink the tea. She\nwas even almost vexed that the mother said with tears that:\n\n\"Poor Jock always did like tea so much, and she had always thought that\nmaybe if he could have had it hot and strong, he would not have taken\nto the drink.\"\n\nMart had no faith in this, no belief that anything in her father's\npast life could have kept him from the drink; but she held herself\nsilent, and let the tears have their way. All the time she had in her\nheart one great solemn regret. There was One who would have helped her\nfather, would and could have saved him, even from rum. What if she, his\ndaughter, had known the Lord Jesus, and could have taken the miserable\nfather to him and had him transformed! Mart had no doubt about his\npower to do it. An unanswerable argument had been given her. No infidel\nneed try to assail her now.\n\nBut the father! Why had everybody kept silence and let him sink away?\n\nAwful!\n\nWhy had not she known Christ? Why had she not listened to Sallie but a\nweek before? Why had not Dirk learned the way and saved his father? An\nawful problem! Mart's life must henceforth be shadowed by it.\n\nMeantime what was Mrs. Roberts to do for this new-born soul? How was\nshe to help her, and, through her, to help her brother?\n\nShe, in her elegant home, sat down to study this problem.\n\nLife at East Fifty-fifth Street was so far removed from life in the\nalley that she knew nothing about the missing father. Days passed,\nand, busy with many claims of society, she had made no movement toward\nhelping the girl, and knew as yet no way to do it; yet she carried her\non her heart. Monday evening came and went, and still she had been\ndetained from any effort.\n\n\nOne afternoon her thoughts shaped themselves into action. She would go\nand see Mart. She would get Dirk to protect her in her journey down\nthe alley; also, in accomplishing this, she would accomplish another\nthing. She would call on Dirk at his place of business. The chief of\nthe office was a Christian man; yet she had reason to believe that he\nknew less about Dirk, and cared much less for him, than he did for his\nlittle dog that sat in the window and barked at passers-by.\n\nShe had no difficulty in securing attention. Ladies were not often\nadmitted, but a card bearing the name \"Mrs. Evan Roberts\" was\nsufficient passport among any of the business men of the city.\n\nMr. Stone was more than ready\u2014he was eager to serve her. What could he\ndo for the elegantly-dressed lady whose carriage waited at the door,\nwhile she came in person among the bales and boxes? Her business must\nbe urgent.\n\nIt was. Could she speak with Mr. Colson just for a moment? She would\nnot detain him long, but she wished to make an appointment with him for\nthe next day.\n\n\"Mr. Colson!\" The chief and his perplexed assistant looked at each\nother thoughtfully and shook their heads. There was no such person\nconnected with their establishment. She must have the wrong number.\n\nNo; she was positive.\n\n\"He told me only three days ago that he was in your employment. He is\non the third floor, I believe.\"\n\nThe gentlemen looked at each other again.\n\n\"Colson!\" repeated Mr. Stone. \"There is certainly a mistake. Briggs is\nin charge on the third floor front, and Dickson has the back rooms. No,\nMrs. Roberts, we have no such name among our men, I am positive.\"\n\nBut Mrs. Roberts gently held her ground. She was sure she was not\nmistaken, for she had talked with him about his work and the different\nmen. He was in Mr. Briggs's department, she felt quite sure. He was not\na foreman, she explained, but quite a young man, had been there but a\nfew weeks, and Dr. Everett was the one who had interested himself in\nsecuring the place.\n\nLight of some sort began to dawn on the perplexed faces of the\ngentlemen.\n\n\"Can she mean black Dirk, do you suppose?\" questioned the elder,\nlooking hard at his associate.\n\nThen came the sweet voice of the visitor.\n\n\"Oh, no, he is not a coloured gentleman. His name is Colson\u2014Mr. Derrick\nColson.\"\n\n\"That is the one,\" said the gentleman quickly. Should he laugh or be\nannoyed?\n\nIt took but a moment after that to summon \"Mr. Derrick Colson.\" Black\nhe was, certainly, not only by reason of his naturally dark skin, but\nbecause of the grimy work, whatever it was, which fell to his lot. His\nbig apron was soiled with ink and oil, and daubed with bits of dark\ncolour which seemed not to be either.\n\nHe came forward with his usual shambling gait, and an additional shade\nof sullenness apparent on his face, but it glowed a swarthy red when he\nrecognized the lady.\n\n\"Good-afternoon, Mr. Colson,\" she said, and she held forth her\ndelicately-gloved hand.\n\nHis own went forward to meet it, then drew suddenly back.\n\n\"It is not clean enough,\" he said; \"there's ink or something on it.\"\n\nBut the lavender kids were not withdrawn.\n\n\"Never mind the ink; a little honest soil never hurt anybody,\" and the\nrough, dark hand was taken in her own.\n\nThen occurred a few moments' chat; at least the lady chatted with easy\nfamiliarity. She referred to the \"Social Parlours,\" to the \"Monday\nEvenings,\" to Miss Dennis's \"Musicale,\" to half-a-dozen themes about\nwhich the bewildered gentlemen within hearing knew nothing.\n\nCould it be that the low-voiced, gentle lady was trying to give them a\nlesson as well as to talk with Dirk? Finally she made an appointment\nfor the next afternoon. Would his employer be so kind as to excuse\nhim for an hour, if convenient? Certainly, it would be convenient, to\nplease Mrs. Evan Roberts.\n\nDirk was very much embarrassed. He blushed and stammered, and did not\nknow how to answer any of the kindnesses.\n\nBut there were two things during the interview which gave Mrs. Roberts\nmore pleasure than you, perhaps, are able to understand.\n\nOne was, that at sight of her he had suddenly snatched off the paper\ncap which he wore; and the other, that having set it again on his head\nas he turned from her, he glanced back from the door, and, in answer to\nher bow and smile, lifted the ugly little cap with an air that was an\nexact imitation of young Reid, and yet so well done that you would not\nhave thought of it as an imitation.\n\nMrs. Roberts could have clapped her bands, but she did not. Instead she\nsaid sweetly,\u2014\n\n\"I am very glad that Mr. Colson is in the employment of a Christian\ngentleman. He is greatly in need of help from all Christian sources,\nand I am sure there is that in him which will respond to judicious\neffort.\"\n\nThen she let the bewildered man attend her to her carriage, and went on\nher way rejoicing.\n\n\nBut there were plans being laid for her at that moment of which she\nknew nothing.\n\nTo-morrow she would go and see the golden-haired girl. In a\nneatly-packed basket she had certain things\u2014among them a bonnet and a\nsack that she knew would fit the hair and face, and she believed would\ngive Mart pleasure. If only she could contrive a natural way to give\nthem to her, and there could be planned ways of keeping them safe from\nthe pawnbroker's grasp.\n\nAll this time she knew nothing of the fact that the hand which had\ngrasped for years to furnish the pawnbroker was stilled for ever. It\nhad not once occurred to Dirk to tell her. It is a solemn fact that in\nthis greater excitement he had actually forgotten it!\n\nAs for the \"Christian employer,\" he did not know of it to tell. He had\nnot so much as known whether black Dirk had a father or not. He was\nsimply a street rough whom Dr. Everett was trying experiments with. And\nbecause there was an unusual pressure on the office, and poor help was\nbetter than none, he was helping the experiment.\n\nHowever, when Dirk went home from the office that night, he remembered\nthat the father was gone.\n\nMart met him at the door, a look of solemn determination on her face.\n\n\"Dirk,\" she said, \"she's going; as sure as you live, she's going. She's\nbeen bad all the afternoon. Sallie says that Mark's doctor will come\nto see her\u2014she knows he will, and Mark shall go for him as soon as he\ncomes home; but I don't mean to wait for no doctor. I want 'her' to\ncome. 'She' knows the way, and I want mother to be told it right, so\nthere won't be no mistake. You go for her, Dirk, right off straight.\nThere ain't any time to lose, for I tell you now she's 'going.' She's\nbeen failing all along, you know, and she has just cried herself down.\nDirk, will you go for 'her' as fast as you can?\"\n\nThe confusion of pronouns might have bewildered you. They did not Dirk.\n\"Her\" meant to him exactly what it did to Mart. He could not think how\nit could possibly mean any other person. But this was astounding news\nabout his mother! It was one thing to have a father disappear whom he\nhad simply feared until he had learned to hate. It was quite another\nthing to talk about the going away of the only one who had ever tried\nto mend his clothes, and who had sat up nights to wash them when she\ncould.\n\nHe strode past Mart into the wretched room, and looked at the bed in\nthe corner.\n\nThe mother was asleep, but on her face was a strange change\u2014a something\nthat he had never seen there before, worn and sunken as it always was.\nIt made him understand Mart's fears.\n\n\"I'll go,\" he said huskily, and rushed from the house.\n\n\"Her\" carriage was just rolling down the avenue as his swift feet\ncleared the alley. He knew the horses. He was a little ahead of them;\nbut it was not probable that the driver would stop for him.\n\n\"Won't you stop that carriage?\" he said in breathless haste to a\npoliceman at the corner. \"I've got to speak to the lady that's in it.\"\n\n\"I'll be quite likely to, no doubt!\" said the policeman in quiet irony.\n\"What rascality are you up to now, Dirk? Can't you be decent for a few\ndays?\"\n\nBut Dirk was trying to free himself from the detaining hand, and threw\nup one arm in a sort of despairing gesture to the coachman. Mr. Roberts\ncaught the signal, recognized the face, and in another moment the\nhorses stood restlessly by the curbstone, and Dirk, his embarrassment\ngone, told his brief story rapidly:\u2014\n\n\"Father went off a little ago, and never came back; and mother, she\nis sickly, and it set her crying; and she's going, Mart thinks, and I\nguess it's so; and Mart wants you to come and show her the way. She\nsaid you knew how, and you would come.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\n\"MAY SHE GO WITH ME?\"\n\nOF course she went. And of course, now that the truth was known, much\nwas done.\n\nDr. Everett was summoned. The wretched bed, with its distressing rags,\nwas turned out altogether, and a comfortable one took its place. Broths\nand teas and jellies and physical comfort of every kind were furnished,\nand the doctor did his best to battle with the disease that long years\nof want and misery had fastened upon their victim. It was all too late,\nof course. It was true what Mr. Roberts sadly said, that half of the\neffort, expended years or even months before, might have saved the\npoor, tortured life; but now!\n\nHow awful those \"too lates\" are! Isn't it a wonder that we ever take\nthe risk of having one ring in our ears for ever? There was one thing\nover which some of these Christian workers shed tears of joy.\n\n\"'I' am too late,\" said Dr. Everett, \"but my Master has as much power\nto-day as ever. He can save her.\"\n\nAnd he did. The poor, tired woman, who years before had remembered an\nold story well enough to name her one daughter \"Martha,\" in memory of\nthe one who \"loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus,\" roused her dull\nheart at the mention of His name, and listened while the wonderful\nstory was told her that he loved not only Martha and her sister, but\nher own poor, sinful, wrecked self\u2014loved her enough to reach after her,\nand call and wait, and prepare for her a home in his glory.\n\nDear! Why has not some one come with the news before? Surely she would\nhave listened during those long, sad years. Well, they made the way\nplain. Neither was it a difficult thing to do. The woman was weary, and\ntravel-stained, and afraid, and longed for nothing so much as a place\nof refuge. She knew that she was a sinner; she knew that she was, and\nhad been for many a year, powerless to help herself. Why should she not\nhail with joy the story of a great and willing Helper?\n\n   \"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden.\"\n\nShe opened her eyes with a gleam of eagerness to hear the words:\n\"Weary?\" Yes, indeed! \"Heavy laden?\" Who more so? If the call was not\nfor her, whom could it mean? What else? Why, what but the glorious old\nstory,\u2014\n\n   \"I will give you rest.\"\n\nWhat wonder that she closed her eyes and smiled. What wonder that the\nfirst words after that were, \"I'll come; show me how.\" And he showed\nher how.\n\n\"Dirk,\" the sister said, when the mother had gone the last and only\nrestful journey of her life\u2014\"Dirk, she went to heaven, and I'm going.\nI've been wanting to tell you for more than a week, but I didn't know\nhow. He asked me to, and I'm going. Now, you must. 'Cause we never\nhad a good time here, and she'll kind of expect it in heaven, and be\nlooking out for you;\u2014she always looked out for you, Dirk.\"\n\nThen did Dirk lose his half-sullen self-control, and great tears rolled\ndown his dark cheeks.\n\nBut the sister shed no tears. She had serious business to attend to.\nDirk must go to heaven now without fail.\n\n\nOne day there was an unusual scene in the alley. It was no uncommon\nthing to see a coffin carried out from there, but on this day there\nwas a hearse, and a minister in Dr. Everett's carriage, and Dirk and\nhis sister, in neat apparel, came out together and were seated in Mr.\nRoberts's carriage; and all the boys of the Monday evening class walked\narm in arm after the slow-moving carriages. And the children of the\nalley stopped their playing and their fighting, and the women stood\nsilent in doorways, and took, most of them, their very first lesson in\nthe proprieties of life.\n\n\"She's got a ride in a carriage at last, poor soul!\" said one, thinking\nof the worn-out body in the coffin.\n\nAnd another said, \"I wonder what poor old Jock would think of all this.\"\n\nBut the scene made its impression and left its lesson. I think the\nvoices of some of them were lower during the rest of the day because of\nit.\n\nWhat next? It was the question that filled Mrs. Roberts's thoughts.\nSomething must be done for Dirk and Mart. That fearful alley was no\nplace for human beings\u2014certainly not for these two. But what to do with\nthem was a question not easily answered.\n\nVarious plans were proposed. Sallie Calkins's two rooms were much\nbetter than the cellar in which the Colson family had lived; and there\nwas a chance to rent a room next to Sallie's, with a closet opening\nfrom it for Dirk. How would it do to have them board with Sallie? The\nsuggestion came first from Gracie Dennis, and sounded reasonable. Mrs.\nRoberts was almost ashamed to dislike it as much as she did. Sallie's\nneat rooms were home now. The father, for this length of time at least,\nheld to his pledge; and son and daughter were radiant over him. He\nhad gone to work, and already the two rooms were taking on an air of\ngreater comfort because of the little things that he proudly brought\nhome.\n\nSallie was doing her part wisely. The table was regularly laid now,\nwith a white cloth and knives and forks; and two new cups and plates\nhad been added to the dishes. Would it be wise to invade this home just\nat this juncture and introduce boarders? Mrs. Roberts did not believe\nthat it would. It was not as though the father had an established\ncharacter, and stood ready to shield his children; they were still\nacting the protective, and he had but too recently risen from the\ndepths where Dirk and Mart had laughed and jeered at him.\n\nBesides, the rooms were located in that dreadful alley; and do what she\nwould, Mrs. Roberts could not feel that that dangerously-beautiful face\ncould find a safe abiding-place in that alley. Some other way must be\nthought of.\n\nTheir immediate future was arranged through the intervention of a\nhouse agent; for even that dreary and desolate cellar had its agent,\nwho was eager to secure his rent. He was unwise enough to undertake to\ninterview Mrs. Roberts as she descended from her carriage, not long\nafter it had followed Mart's mother to the grave.\n\nHe considered this effort of his, a special stroke of business energy.\nHe wanted to be patient with the poor, he said; there wasn't an agent\nin the city who waited for them oftener than he did; but business was\nbusiness, and it stood to reason that he could not depend on a fellow\nlike Dirk. It had been bad enough when the mother was there, but he\ncouldn't think of such a thing as risking it now. What was he to\nunderstand? Did she mean to rent the room for them, and for how long?\nBecause it was his duty to look out for the future.\n\nWhat would be more natural than for Mrs. Roberts, with those two young\nthings looking on, to say that of course she would be responsible for\nthe rent as long as they lived in the room? Thus reasoned the house\nagent.\n\nInstead of which, Mrs. Roberts turned toward Dirk, her face flushed\nover the hardness of a man who could stop a boy and girl on such\nbusiness on their way from their mother's grave, and said:\n\n\"If I were in your place, Mr. Colson, I should not rent these rooms at\nall. They are not suited to your sister's needs. I am sure you can do\nbetter.\"\n\nThe agent was disgusted. \"Mr. Colson,\" indeed! The disreputable young\nscamp whom nobody trusted. He would show this silly woman a fact or two.\n\n\"Business is business,\" he repeated doggedly. \"Either they must take\nthe room, and pay the rent in advance, or else they must hustle out\nthis very night. I have waited now three days after time for decency's\nsake, and more than that I couldn't and wouldn't do.\"\n\nDirk stood looking from one to the other, the red coming and going on\nhis swarthy face. Here was responsibility! He had not thought of it\nbefore. The mother was not there to count out the hoarded rent with\ntrembling fingers, and save the wretched home to them for another\nmonth. She would never be there again. He had nothing with which to pay\nrent; he had nowhere to move. Yet \"she\" had called him Mr. Colson, and\nseemed to expect him to act for himself and Mart.\n\nIt was she who answered the agent, but she spoke to Dirk:\n\n\"Very well. I suppose you are quite as willing to leave here to-night\nas at any time. If I were you, I would leave immediately. Let your\nsister come home with me for the night, and until you have time to make\nother arrangements.\"\n\nMr. Roberts had been summoned to a bank meeting, and had sent Reid to\nattend his wife. He came forward now from the carriage, where he had\nstood waiting, and laid hand on Dirk's arm.\n\n\"And you come home with me to-night, Colson,\" he said in a cordial\ntone, such as he might have used with any young friend; \"then we shall\nhave a chance to talk things over and make plans.\"\n\n\"That is nice,\" Mrs. Roberts said quickly, rejoicing in her heart over\nReid's promptness to act. \"Then you can get away from this wretched\nplace at once. Mr. Roberts will see to the removal of your goods,\nwhatever you need, and the agent can call on him in the morning. That\nwill be the simplest way to settle it all. May she go with me?\"\n\nA slight, caressing movement of a gloved hand on the girl's arm\naccompanied this question.\n\nMart was silent with bewilderment. When had Dirk ever before been asked\nwhat she might do, or might not do? At first she was half inclined to\nscorn the suggestion. Then, suddenly, it came to her with a sense of\nrelief and protection: she was not alone; it was Dirk's business to\nthink of and care for her. Would he do it?\n\nAs for Dirk, no wonder that his face was deeply flushed. New thoughts\nwere struggling in his heart. He was to decide for Mart; he was the\nhead of the home now.\n\nMrs. Roberts waited anxiously. She longed exceedingly to rouse in\nthe boy, who was already grown to the stature of a man, a sense of\nresponsibility.\n\nA moment more, and he had shaken himself free from the spell which\nseemed to bind him.\n\n\"We'll do as you say.\" He spoke with the air of a man who had assumed\nhis proper place and taken up his duties. \"Mart, you go along with her,\nand I'll see about things to-morrow.\"\n\nAnd Mart, for the first time in her life, received and obeyed in\nsilence a direction from her brother.\n\nPossibly Mrs. Roberts may have been mistaken, but she thought that much\nhad been accomplished that day.\n\nYet none of them realized whereunto this thing would grow.\n\n\nMrs. Roberts, when she ushered Mart that evening into the pink room\nagain, and showed her how to manage the hot and cold water, and which\nbell to ring if she needed anything, and in every imaginable way\ntreated her as a guest, whom it was pleasant to serve, had really no\nplans just then\u2014no hobby to ride\u2014but simply acted out the dictates of\nher heart.\n\nYou will remember that her Christian life had been always\nunconventional. The very fact that during her early girlhood she had\nbeen painfully trammelled by what \"they\" would say or think, seemed to\nhave had its influence over her later experiences. Since she had been\nmade free, she would be free indeed\u2014that is, with the liberty with\nwhich Christ makes us free. What would please \"him\" she resolved should\nbe the one thought to which she would give careful attention. Now,\nit is perhaps worthy of mention that this closely following disciple\ndid not once stop to determine whether it would please him to give\nsuch tender care to this stray child of his, or whether she would be\nconsidered doing not just the thing, in his eyes, if she entertained\nher in the pink room.\n\nAbout what he would have her do next, she gave much thought. And it was\nnot for days, or rather weeks, that she caught the possibility of his\nmeaning that the pink room should really be the girl's own.\n\nIt was just this way. The weeks went by, and no plan for settling Mart\ncomfortably elsewhere met Mrs. Roberts's approval. There was constantly\nsome excellent reason why the one mentioned would not do.\n\nMeantime they became, she and Gracie Dennis, more and more deeply\ninterested in Mart. In her wardrobe first.\n\n\"Wherever she lives, she should have respectable clothing; thus much is\neasily settled.\"\n\nSo the matron decreed, and Gracie did not gainsay it. She became\nabsorbed in preparing it. Such fascinating work! So many things were\nneeded, and her skin was so delicate, and her eyes so blue, and\nGracie's choice of shades and textures fitted her so precisely.\n\nThen when dressed, simple though her toilet was, her remarkable beauty\nshone out so conspicuously as to alarm Mrs. Roberts, whenever she\nthought of her in shop or in store.\n\nSeveral times during the weeks she visited Sallie Calkins, and looked\nabout her with a thoughtful air, and came away feeling that it would\nnot do. There was Mark, growing into manhood; a good boy, hard-working,\nrespectable, proud of his good, homely sister, and of his reformed\nfather. The two rooms were taking on every sort of homely comfort that\nSallie's skill, helped by Mrs. Roberts's suggestions, could devise. It\nwas growing into a model little home in its way, but there was not a\ncorner in it where Mart would fit.\n\nThen, as the days passed, a subtle, fascinating change began to come\nover Mart. She slipped quietly into certain household duties. She\nshowed marvellous skill with her needle\u2014such skill indeed, that Gracie\nDennis said more than once:\n\n\"I'll tell you, Flossy, what to do with her: put her in a good\nestablishment, and let her learn the dressmaking trade. She could make\nher fortune in time.\"\n\nAnd Mrs. Roberts smiled, and assented to the statement, but not to the\nproposition. There was no dressmaking establishment known to her where\nshe was willing to place so young and pretty and ignorant a girl. But\nshe was quite willing that Mart should learn the looping of dresses,\nand the fitting of sacks and collars and ruffles, and take many a\nstitch for her, as well as for Gracie.\n\nShe was willing to have her do a dozen little nameless things the\nways of doing which she had caught up; until at last the touch of her\nfingers began to be felt about the rooms, and Mrs. Roberts began to\nnotice that she should miss Mart when she went away. Still, from the\nfirst time she said this, the thought came afterward with a smile of\nsatisfaction, and it was but a week afterward that she caught herself\nphrasing it, that she should miss her \"if\" she went away.\n\nWhat about Dirk? Young Reid could have told you more of him during\nthese days than anybody else. He still stayed at the boarding-house.\nMrs. Saunders, the mistress of it, was one who, if you had known her,\nyou would feel sure could interest herself heartily in such as he.\nThere was a bit of a room next to Reid's. To be sure, it had been used\nfor a clothes-press, and it took the busy housekeeper half-a-day to\nplan how she could get along without it; but she planned, and offered\nit to Reid for his prot\u00e9g\u00e9.\n\n\"Just for the present, you know, until he sees what he can do, poor\nfellow,\" she said.\n\nAnd Reid accepted the little room joyfully, and helped to fit it up.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\n\"WHAT IF I BELONGED?\"\n\nYOU think things are taking very rapid strides? Well, don't you know\nthat there come periods when they do just that thing, or appear\nto? Why, even the buds on the trees teach us the lesson. How many\nspring-times have you gone to your bed feeling that the season was\nlate, and the trees were bare, and the fruits would all be backward,\nand nature was dawdling along in a very wearisome fashion; and awakened\nin the morning to find that there had in the night been a gentle rain,\nand a movement of mysterious power among the buds and the grasses, and\nthat now, in the morning sunshine, the world had burst into bloom? Yet,\ndid you really suppose, after all, that the work was done in one night?\n\nThere was progress of several sorts in the class at the South End.\nEven a casual observer could have seen a change in the boys that first\nSunday after they had attended Dirk's mother to the grave. The dignity\nof that hour of sorrow was still upon them. Even the very reckless and\nworld-hardened will offer a certain degree of respect to death. On\nordinary occasions the boys might have been merry at Dirk's expense,\nfor they saw changes in him; but the memory of his mother's coffin kept\nthem silent, and let his changed manner have its effect.\n\nThat Sunday was full of small events to Dirk\u2014at least they are small\nenough when one puts them on paper, though I admit that they looked\nlarge to him. Several people interested themselves in his welfare.\n\n\"Poor fellow!\" said Mrs. Saunders. \"I suppose his mother tried to do\nfor him. Just as likely as not she had a clean shirt for him of a\nSunday morning.\"\n\nYou will perceive that Mrs. Saunders, though all her life a resident of\na large city, was not very well acquainted with the abject poor.\n\nIn point of fact, Dirk Colson had had no extra clothing for his mother\nto make clean. But Mrs. Saunders, full of the motherly thought, yet\nfinding no trace of a shirt in the bundle of rags that Dirk had brought\nwith him, went down one day into the depths of an old trunk, and\nbrought to light and mended and washed and ironed a shirt that had long\nbeen laid aside.\n\nIt lay in its purity on a chair at the foot of Dirk's bed on Sabbath\nmorning. He lay still and looked at it for a while, then arose and gave\nsuch careful attention to the soap and water as was new to him, and\narrayed himself in the clean linen.\n\nRig clothes were whole and clean. Mr. Roberts had seen to it that he\nwent respectably dressed to his mother's funeral.\n\nA tap at his door a little later, and young Reid appeared, shoe-brush\nand blacking-box in hand.\n\n\"Want to borrow?\" he said, in the careless tone of one who might have\nsupposed that the blacking of his boots was an every-day matter to this\nboy. \"I always keep my own; it is cheaper than to depend on the street\nboys.\"\n\nDirk said nothing at all, but reached forth his hand, and took the\noffered tools, and the hint which came with them. When he went down\nto breakfast his boots shone, and his fresh paper collar was neatly\narranged; altogether he was not the boy to whom I first introduced\nyou. I am not sure that Policeman Duffer would have recognized him. A\ncollar and a necktie make a great difference in some people's personal\nappearance. Dirk wondered a little as to where the box of paper collars\ncame from. The necktie he had just found lying in the bottom of the\nbox. It was the mate of the one Reid wore; but that told nothing, for\nboth were simple and plain, and could be bought by the dozen in any\nfurnishing store.\n\n\nIt is small wonder that the boys in the class looked at him. Nimble\nDick wore at first a roguish air, but a sudden memory of Dirk's face\nwhen he turned away from his mother's grave came in time. Open graves\nare not easy things to forget.\n\nDirk went to the church that day\u2014went with young Reid by invitation,\nand sat in the pew behind Mr. Roberts.\n\nBy the way, the seat which he occupied was another of Mr. Roberts's\npeculiarities. Three seats were rented by him in a central part of the\nlarge church. One of these seats he and his wife regularly occupied.\nThe others were almost as regularly occupied by the clerks from the\nstore who chose to make that their church home. Six sittings to a pew.\nWhen a young man chose, Mr. Roberts was ready to enter into a business\nengagement with him, whereby the sitting should be considered his own,\nMr. Roberts considering it to be no part of any one's concern that the\nsum for which he thus sublet the sittings was not a tenth of what the\nfirst rental cost. It was in this way that Mr. Reid owned sittings in\nthe pew just back of that occupied by Mr. Roberts, and brought with him\nconstantly one and another young man. To-day the young man was Dirk\nColson.\n\nIt was all a strange world to him. He had wandered into the gallery\nof the mission chapel, and looked down from his perch on the crowd of\nworshippers; but this morning he was in the very centre of things, as\nif he were one of them. Perhaps it was not strange that the startled\ninquiry came to his mind: What if I belonged? Where did he belong now?\nHe had lost his place; he must make another. What if it should be in\nthis neighbourhood, among these surroundings? Such thoughts did not\ntake actual shape to him, so that he could have put them into words;\nthey merely hovered in his atmosphere.\n\nMrs. Roberts sat so that he could look at her, which thing he liked to\ndo. It had long since been settled in his mind that he had one friend,\nand that one was Mrs. Roberts. He admired Gracie Dennis, too, with a\ndifferent sort of admiration from that which he gave to the matron. She\nmight be all very well; and she was a splendid reader, and he knew that\nhe could imitate her on certain sentences, at least. And she had taught\nhim to use the type-writer\u2014an accomplishment which he meant to perfect\nhimself in as soon as he had a chance. In fact, his ambition reached\nhigher than that: one of these days, he meant to make one of his own,\nwith certain improvements! Who shall say that Dirk was not growing?\n\nOn this particular day there sat beside Mrs. Roberts a lady,\u2014a\nstranger. He could not see her face, but for some reason, which he did\nnot understand, Dirk liked to look at her. She suggested something to\nhim that seemed like a familiar dream. He thought much about her, and\nresolved to see if in her face she looked like any one he ever saw. As\nshe turned at the close of the service he was looking at her steadily.\nLo! It was Mart.\n\nNo; the possibility had not once suggested itself to his mind. If you\nthink this doubtful, you merely show that you know nothing about the\ntransforming effect of a becoming dress, no matter how simple it may\nbe. Remember, Dirk had never but twice seen his sister in a bonnet.\nThe first time it was Sallie's; and though the effect was sufficiently\nstartling, yet Sallie's bonnet did not fit her face as this creation\nof Gracie Dennis's fingers did. The second time the bonnet had been a\nhideous black one, proffered by an old woman who lived in the story\nabove them, and whose thoughtfulness Mrs. Roberts would not mar by\nmaking any mention of the neat one which she had brought in a box that\nday. The black bonnet had been like a mask, hiding Mart's beauty.\n\nThe bonnet that she wore now was not of that character. It told a\nwonderful story to Dirk's astonished gaze. Now, indeed, the likeness\nwas plain; without doubt, the girl whose face lighted with a curious\nsmile at sight of him bore a striking likeness to the woman who had\nsmiled on him whenever she met him!\n\nA curious effect this had on Dirk. There was that in his sister which\nmade it possible for her to be something like the woman who had won his\nheart; and that sister was in his care\u2014she had said so. He must work\nfor her, and watch over her!\n\nI suppose that Sabbath was really the beginning of the surface changes\nin Mrs. Roberts's class\u2014not the beginning to the teacher, but to those\npeople who have eyes only for strongly marked things.\n\nI know that it was but a few weeks afterward that Mrs. Roberts came\nhome with such an unusual light in her eyes, and with her face so full\nof brightness, that her husband said, inquiringly,\u2014\n\n\"What is it, Flossy?\"\n\nShe turned to him eagerly, ready to laugh.\n\n\"It is what you will understand, but a great many people wouldn't. It\nis so nice that you understand things! I feel just like saying, 'Thank\nthe Lord.'\"\n\n\"Do you mean to convey the idea that only a very few favoured people\nfeel like that? I don't know of a person who has not great occasion.\nWhat is your special one?\"\n\n\"Evan, the last boy had his boots blacked, and a fresh paper collar on!\"\n\nMr. Roberts threw back his head and laughed\u2014a genial, hearty laugh.\n\nHis wife looked on, smiling.\n\nThere is a great deal of character in a laugh, remember; you would have\nknown that this was a sympathetic one.\n\nMr. Roberts was entirely capable of realizing what this said to his\nwife about the future of her boys. It was becoming certain that their\nself-respect was awakened.\n\nA few days thereafter occurred another of those little things which\nmark some characters.\n\nDirk, at Mrs. Saunders's breakfast-table on Sabbath morning, heard talk\nthat on Monday, he recalled. By the way, I should have told you of one\nother way in which the Sabbath became a marked day to him. He slept in\nthe little room which opened from Reid's, but his meals were picked up\nat a restaurant, as occasion offered,\u2014a much nicer and surer method of\nliving than he had ever known before. Even the commonest restaurant\nwas great respectability to him. Yet you will remember that he had\nby this time taken several suppers in Mrs. Roberts's dining-room. He\nknew that there was a difference in things\u2014in fact, his experience now\nstretched over infinite differences; but the first time he sat down to\nMrs. Saunders's breakfast-table, on a Sabbath morning, he discovered\nanother grade: this by no means belonged to the restaurant class. These\nSunday breakfasts and dinners were some of Mrs. Saunders's quiet ways\nof helping along the work of the Christian world. Many a young man\nappeared at her table as the guest of Reid or of Dr. Everett, or of\nsome other of the boarders, who was unaware that he owed the pleasant\nexperience to the landlady.\n\nWell, Dirk at the Sabbath table heard talk of one General Burton,\nfamous as a soldier, a scholar, and an orator. General Burton was\nin the city, the guest of a prominent man. He was to speak on the\nfollowing evening in one of the great halls, and much eager talk was\nhad concerning him; great desire was expressed to hear him, to get a\nglimpse of him. Dirk listened in silence, but had his own thoughts\nabout what it must be to have people talking about one, wanting to get\na glimpse of one, and next, what it must be to be intimate with such\npeople. Did Mrs. Roberts know the great man? he wondered. And then\nDirk smiled as he thought how queer it was that he should know Mrs.\nRoberts\u2014that he might, in fact, be called intimately acquainted with\nher!\n\nRemembering this reverie of his, you will better understand how he felt\non Monday morning, as he made his way in haste down a quiet part of one\nof the up-town streets, intent on an errand that required promptness,\nto hear his name called by Mrs. Roberts.\n\n\"Good-morning!\" she said. \"Are you in too great haste to recognize your\nfriends? I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. General Burton,\nMr. Colson.\u2014General, this is one of my young men, of whom I told you.\"\n\nWhereupon the famous general, hero of many battles, held out his\nhonoured hand and took Dirk's in a cordial grasp. I don't suppose I\ncould explain to you what an effect this action had on a boy like Dirk.\n\nThere is this comfort, you may be a student of human nature, and\ntherefore may understand it all without explanation.\n\nThis is only one of many so-called trifles which occurred during the\nweeks to make their indelible impress on the characters of the boys.\n\nOf course, the Monday evenings prospered. Reading lessons and writing\nlessons, and, as time passed, lessons of all sorts, made good progress.\n\nNeatly-blackened boots, carefully-arranged hair, and fresh collars\nbecame the rule instead of the exception.\n\nOther avenues for improvement opened. It became noised abroad in\nChristian circles that great transformations were being worked among\na certain set of hard young fellows who had hitherto been best known\nto the police. Mr. Roberts was interviewed by one and another, and one\noutgrowth of the talks was that tickets for a course of expensive and\nvaluable and attractive lectures on popular subjects were placed in\nlarge numbers in Mr. Roberts's hands for him to use at discretion.\n\nMoreover, seats were rented in the church, towards which most of the\nboys gravitated\u2014the one connected with their mission; seats re-rented\nafter Mr. Roberts's plan, so that as often as there appeared a young\nman who cared to have a spot in the church which belonged to him, it\ncould be had for a very small sum\u2014in fact, as pews rented in that\nchurch, a ridiculously small sum.\n\nThese are only hints of the channels which time and patience and\nthought opened for these young men, on whom, but a short time before,\nSatan believed himself to have so firm a grip.\n\nOne feature of the Monday evenings had, in the course of time, to be\nchanged. The young teacher of elocution went home.\n\n\"I want to go,\" she said at last, in answer to her hostess's pleading.\n\"I think it quite likely that papa would let me stay and attend school\nhere; but I am in haste to get home. You need not look sober, Flossy. I\nhave had a happier time than I have ever had in my life before, and I\nhave found here a sort of happiness that will last. It almost breaks my\nheart to think of leaving those boys, especially my dear Dick Bolton;\nbut really I need to go home and undo certain things that I left badly\ndone. You don't half know me, Flossy Shipley. When I came here I was a\nregular goose. If you had known what a simpleton I was, and how hateful\nI had been about some things at home, you would never have invited me.\n\n\"Among other things that were hateful about me, I was a real horror to\nmy mother. I thought I had reason to distrust and dislike her, when the\ntruth is that I have cause to go down on my knees and thank her for\nkeeping me from some things. I'm in a real hurry to get home, and show\nthat young mother of mine what a perfectly angelic daughter I can be.\"\n\nAnd Mrs. Roberts smiled and kept her own counsel, and this was all\nthat she was supposed to know about her young guest. She never knew\nthe whole story about Professor Ellis; though there was a girl, Hester\nMason by name, in Dr. Everett's Sabbath school, who could have told her\na good deal about him, and about Gracie Dennis's helping to break the\nnet that Satan had woven for her unwary feet.\n\nThe fact is, there is a great deal concerning all these people\u2014Hester\nMason and Dr. Everett and Joy Saunders and Joy Saunders's mother\u2014which\nI should have liked to tell you if I could have found room. You may\nread of them any time, however, if you choose, in a book called\n\"Workers Together; or, An Endless Chain.\" Of course, the story of\ntheir lives does not end even there, because the chain is, as I said,\n\"endless;\" but there are many of the links presented to view.\n\nSo Gracie Dennis went home. And neither then nor afterward did Mrs.\nRoberts hear in detail the story of Professor Ellis. What matter? She\nhad, however, a short added chapter. It came in a letter from Mrs.\nMarion Dennis not long after Gracie's return. It read thus:\u2014\n\n   \"O Flossy Shipley Roberts! Blessed little scheming saint that you are!\nWhat did you do? How did you do it? Ah! I know more about it than those\nsentences would indicate. The dear Lord did it, working through you,\nhis servant. He has called our Gracie to higher ground, filled her\nheart with that which has made insignificant things take their true\nplace, and wrong things show for what they are.\n\n   \"You know, of course, that it is all right about Professor Ellis;\u2014Or\nno! I fear it is all wrong about him, but right with our Gracie. I hear\nthat he has permanently located in your city. Perhaps your Christian\ncharity can reach him. He sent Gracie a letter, trying to explain\ncertain affairs about that Mason girl, with which I presume you are\nfamiliar. She showed me the letter and her answer. He will not write\nher another!\"\n\n\n\"I don't know any Mason girl,\" said Mrs. Roberts to her husband, \"but\nit doesn't matter. I don't want to know the story if there is nothing\nto be done through it. There are stories enough that one 'must' know.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\n\"IT IS NO MADE-UP AFFAIR.\"\n\nIT was Monday evening, and there was company at Mr. Roberts's\nhome\u2014not the usual Monday evening gathering, but quite a large party\nof well-dressed men and women, many of them young, yet some were\nmiddle-aged. The pretty room opposite the conservatory was thrown\nopen, and aglow with lights and flowers; and groups were continually\npassing in and out, admiring the paintings and the flowers, and the\ntype-writers of different patterns, and the books and magazines, of\nwhich there were many. But interest was not confined to this room. The\nparlours were thrown open and the music-room beyond; even the cosy\nlittle library was public property for this one evening. The company\nwas large and their tastes were varied; so no pains had been spared to\ngive them variety.\n\nYou are acquainted with quite a number of the guests; yet I am by no\nmeans sure that you would recognize them all. Even in so short a period\nas three years great changes may be effected.\n\nFor instance, do you know the young man in unnoticeable, and therefore\nappropriate, evening dress, who is doing duty at the piano, watching\nwith practised eye the course of the player, and turning the leaf with\nskilful hand at just the right moment? It is a somewhat embarrassing\nposition; but his manner leads you to suppose that he has been\naccustomed to it all his life, and that he reads music well. In the\nlatter belief you are correct; but as to being accustomed to it\u2014three\nyears ago Nimble Dick could have told you a different story.\n\nYou can't believe that it is he? I do not wonder. The change is\ncertainly a great one; but he does not feel it. To tell you the truth,\nhe almost forgets, when he becomes absorbed in his work, that this sort\nof society was not always open to him. Three years mean a long time\nto the young; and Richard Bolton has so long been accustomed to the\nfreedom of Mrs. Roberts's parlour; and to the sort of people whom one\nfinds there, that none of the refinements of polite life are strange\nto him; and as to turning music, has he not done it for his hostess\nnumberless times?\n\nIf your eyes are now opened, it is possible that you may be trying to\nspy out other young men. The rooms are full of them, elegantly-dressed\nfashionable young men; but a few are noticeable by the air which they\nhave of being in a sense responsible for the comfort of the others.\nThey are on the alert; they are taking care that no young guest shall\nappear for a moment to be forgotten or neglected. They appear to be\nentirely familiar with the house and all its appointments. They can be\nappealed to for a glass of water or an ice, or to know what special\nscene this landscape hanging over the mantle represents, or whose bust\nthis is in the niche at the left, or in what portion of the library a\ncertain book will be found, or from what part of the foreign world that\nstrangely-shaped shell came; and they are all equally at home.\n\nIn short, it is like having a dozen or twenty young hosts to look after\nyour comfort and pleasure. In point of fact, there are seventeen of\nthem. The original seven has thus increased. Two months ago there were\ntwenty; but one has secured an appointment as telegraph operator in a\ndistant city\u2014and as Stephen Crowley occupies a similar position in one\nof the offices in this city, some very interesting conversations are\nheld, and many important items connected with the \"Monday evenings\"\nand the South End School and the \"Library Association,\" etc., are\ntransmitted when the lines are not otherwise employed.\n\nYoung Haskell, too, has gone with one of the partners from the store\nwhere he was first employed, to set up a branch store in a not distant\ntown; and his old Sabbath school teacher has already received letters\nfrom him, saying that they have started a branch Sunday school in the\nsouth part of the town, and that he has picked seven little wretches\nout of the streets, from eight to twelve years of age, and gone to work.\n\n   \"And, dear Mrs. Roberts, I wish you would pray for me, that I may be\nable to bring every one of them to Christ.\"\n\nSo the letter ran; and that tells volumes to the initiated about young\nHaskell.\n\nBut although the changes among these young men have been great almost\nto bewilderment, only one of the number has been promoted to a dazzling\nheight. The others are without exception earning good, honest livings\nfor themselves; securing good, substantial education through the\nevening classes which have grown out of that first effort; bidding fair\nto become leading and honoured citizens when they actually take their\nplaces as men. But Mark Calkins, faithful, plodding, good-hearted,\npatient Mark, has surpassed them all!\n\nThe truth is, \"that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath\nentered into the heart,\" what sort of magnificence surrounds him now.\nHe has gone to court. The chief Ruler of the realm has sent for Mark to\nbe always in his immediate presence in the palace; and with what joy he\nwent I cannot tell you, nor how often they speak of him, and try to let\ntheir hearts conceive of the glory which surrounds him, and dwell on\nthe day when they will be called, one after another, to share the same\nglory, for this is the ambition of more than half of them.\n\nNow, in that sentence is unveiled the most curious part of my curious\nstory; and that it is curious I frankly admit. It is no made-up affair.\nI am not responsible for the strangeness of it. You are to remember\nthat \"truth is stranger than fiction,\" and then to understand that I am\ntelling you the truth. It is, then, a fact that these young men have\neach received conditional appointments to serve in the palace, high in\npower, and splendour, and dignity. The conditions are that they are\nto be willing to be guided in all things by the will of their King,\nwhom they each admit to be wise above all wisdom, and to be kind above\nall their conceptions of kindness. It is true that nine of the number\nhave accepted their appointments, donned their uniform, assumed their\npositions as he has directed, and are waiting for the summons to appear\nin person at court. It is also true that the others are still in a\nstate of indecision; they do not know whether to accept the appointment\nor not. It is true that they feel themselves honoured; that they\nbelieve this to be the only path of honourable and safe promotion. It\nis true that they have full faith in those who will tell with joy that,\nhaving enlisted, they find the service even in this ante-room sweet and\nthe rewards great.\n\nIt is true that they severally visited Mark, just as the door was\nopening to admit him to the palace, and heard him speak of the glimpses\nof its glory, and heard that his last words before he went away\nwere, \"Oh, mine eyes see the King in his beauty!\" And that his voice\nwas jubilant as that of a conqueror, and his face radiant as with a\nreflection of unseen glory. And yet they hesitate, and daily with the\ncall, and mean, some time, to have such an inheritance deeded to them,\nbut not now. Remember, I am not responsible for this. Were I writing\nfiction I should hesitate to set down such idiotic folly, expecting you\nto call it unnatural or absurdly overdrawn; but I do solemnly declare\nto you that this is fact. Account for the folly of their behaviour as\nbest you can.\n\nWell, Sallie and her father are left behind. But, mind you, they are\nnot among the doubtful ones. They both as much expect to serve at court\nas they expect to live through all eternity. But while they wait,\nthey are busy. They have moved from the alley; the surroundings were\nnot such as they liked. Did you notice that bit of a house standing\nmodestly back from the road, at the farther corner of those ample\ngrounds that surround the South End Church? It is the sexton's house;\nand that church, and those Sunday school rooms, and those grounds, and\neverything pertaining to them, are under his care. The father is the\nsexton it is true, and attends the furnace and rings the bell; but it\nis Sallie's care that keeps seat and desk and window so beautifully\nfree from dust or stain. Oh, they live busy lives, and happy ones.\nSallie trusted not in vain in her father's promise that night, when he\nput his weak will into the pledge; but you are to understand that it\nwas but a few days thereafter when he planted his weak and wavering\nfeet on the Rock of Ages. Then did Satan angle for him in vain.\n\nSo, on this Monday evening, there were but seventeen at the gathering.\nI hesitate over what to name the gathering. I would call it a party,\nbut that in many respects it was so totally different from anything\nwith which you are probably acquainted by that name.\n\nThe young man who stands by the door of the conservatory, eagerly\ndescribing to Miss Henderson a rare and curious flower, which has\nbeen sent to Mrs. Roberts from California, is \"Black Dirk.\" Really, I\nhope you are sufficiently astonished; for he looks so utterly unlike\nthe scamp who used to be the special torment of the South End Mission\nthat I should be disappointed if you were not impressed by it. \"Mr.\nColson\" almost everybody calls him now. The name has long since lost\nits strangeness. He is in the employment of the great firm of Bostwick,\nSmythe, Roberts & Co.\n\nAnd although Mr. Roberts has never found it convenient to do so before,\nthere were reasons why he thought it would be well to have a clerk\nwithin call, so Mr. Colson boards with what was the junior partner of\nthe firm. He is so no more, by the way, for Mr. Reid has been received\nas a member, and is decidedly a \"junior\" partner. Probably Mr. Roberts\ncould tell you, if he chose, why one so young, and without capital, had\nbeen elected to partnership; but, as a rule, he keeps his own counsel,\nonly remarking that the young man developed remarkable business\nfaculties which were patent to the whole firm. To his wife he said:\u2014\n\n\"I tell you, Flossy, I believe a consecrated life will be honoured\nby the Lord in whatever channel he gives it talents to develop.\n'Whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.' That young man is going to have a\ncareer in business. I shouldn't be surprised if the Master meant him to\nshow the world how a Christian can use money to his glory.\"\n\nIt is early yet to prophesy what Mr. Colson will do. Doubtless he will\nbe a merchant; certainly he will be a Christian; possibly he will be\nan orator, of whom the world will yet hear\u2014a temperance orator, for\ninstance. I know you would like to hear him read a poem. He is not\nconfined to Will Carleton's style now, though he still reads with power\nsome of those inimitable delineations of life; but Gracie Dennis offers\nno more criticisms when he reads. In fact, I have heard her defer to\nhim, when a question arose, as one who had probably studied the passage\nand caught its best. I am willing to confess that my poor Black Dirk\nwas a bit of a genius.\n\nThe thought I desire you to catch is that so many of those poor\nfellows, who of necessity live by their wits in the city slums, are\ndiamonds which could be fitted to shine. You take a diamond, and throw\nit down in the dirt and filth, and put your foot on it, and grind it\nin, and leave it there, sinking and soiling, day after day, year after\nyear; and when somebody comes along and picks it out, how much will it\ngleam for him at first? Yet the diamond is there.\n\n   \"Thou shalt ... be ... a royal diadem in the hand of thy God.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts had been at work hunting diamonds for His diadem.\n\nAs Mr. Colson stood there chatting freely with Miss Henderson, there\nwas nothing about the association that looked incongruous, neither did\nit occur to any. There was not a trace of embarrassment about this boy\nfrom the slums; he had forgotten the slums, and stood talking with one\nof the aristocrats of the city.\n\nHow came she to talk with him, to allow herself to be entertained by\nhim? Let me tell you; thereby hangs a tale. Some time before this\nevening\u2014in fact, nearly two years before\u2014Mrs. Roberts had come to a\npuzzle, and stood and looked at it doubtfully. Then she presented it to\nthe others:\u2014\n\n\"They are growing easy in their manners with me; learning to be\ngentlemanly without embarrassment, and thoughtful over little things\nwithout being ashamed of it; but I am afraid that with other ladies\nthey would be sadly frightened and awkward. When Mrs. Delaney came in\nthis evening I could but notice how utterly silent Mr. Colson became;\nhe had been talking well before. It seems as though there was a great\ngulf between them and social advancement. How can we bridge it?\"\n\nThen Mr. Reid ventured his thought:\u2014\n\n\"My sister Esther had a class in the Centre Street Sabbath school\u2014nice\nlittle girls, who wore pretty dresses, and had their hair curled, and\ncame from the best families. After she was taken sick, she told me\none of her regrets was that she had not stayed well long enough to\ntry a plan which she had. She meant to take a class of rough little\nboys in the mission school, and she meant to ask the mothers of the\nlittle girls to let them come, once a month, and play with the little\nboys from the streets\u2014she to play with them and watch over them\nevery moment, but to try to interest the girls in teaching the boys\ngentleness and good manners. I don't know how it would have worked.\nEsther was never well enough to undertake it, nor could she seem\nto enlist any one else in such service. It has grave objections, I\nsuppose; but I have always thought that I should like to see something\nof the kind carefully tried.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts, before this little story was half concluded, had turned\nthose eager eyes of hers on the speaker\u2014eyes that always had a peculiar\nlight in them whenever her soul took in a new suggestion.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she said. \"I see\u2014oh! A great many things. I ought to have\ncalled in that dear sister Esther to help on this phase of the question\nbefore. It has always seemed to me as though we were doing her work.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI.\n\n\"THEIR WORKS DO FOLLOW THEM.\"\n\nTHAT was the beginning of a new effort. There were certain young ladies\nbecoming well known to Mrs. Roberts by reason of a similarity of tastes\nwhich drew them to her.\n\nShe sat down one day and wrote out their names with great care on her\ntablets.\n\nMiss Henderson's name headed the list. She was one of the aristocrats.\nI use the word in its highest sense. The accidents of wealth and\nposition were hers\u2014at least, that is the way we talk, though I suppose\nwe all believe that the Lord is the giver of both, and will require an\naccount of the same at our hands.\n\nIf this be so, Miss Henderson will be more ready than some with her\nrendering; for she is of royal blood, and guards well the honour of the\nChristian name she bears.\n\nWithout hesitation, Miss Henderson headed the list. The others were\nchosen more slowly\u2014ten of them, picked soldiers, to do special duty \"in\nHis name.\"\n\nIt required much explanation, much care to plan wisely.\n\nBut the girls caught at the idea.\n\nIn the course of weeks they formed a band, with Miss Henderson for\npresident. Ostensibly they were a literary society; really they were\ndiamond polishers.\n\nThey met one evening by invitation with Mrs. Roberts, and made the\nacquaintance of the \"Monday Club.\" They sang for them, read for them,\nheard them read; chatted with them on the various topics of the\nhour,\u2014the last lecture of the course, which all had attended; a certain\nbook carefully read and criticised by Mr. and Mrs. Roberts and Dr.\nEverett in the Monday Club\u2014not so carefully read by the young ladies;\ntherefore, it came to pass that they were somewhat worsted in an\nargument concerning it, which was bad neither for the young ladies nor\nthe Monday Club.\n\nFinally, they were taken out to supper by these young men who had so\nfar come under Mrs. Roberts's influence that they were willing to\nendure \"torture\" for the sake of pleasing her.\n\nIt is a long story. I could write another book about it just as well as\nnot.\n\nThe main difficulty would be that the critics would pronounce the story\noverdrawn. They always do when one revels in facts. It is only when\nan author keeps within the range of sober fiction that he may feel\ncomparatively safe from this charge.\n\nThese young ladies represented other parlours and other dining-rooms.\nThey arranged for little graceful entertainments, to which the Monday\nClub was invited. Gradually others were invited too\u2014good, solid men,\nand wise-hearted, motherly women. The invitations were select, the\n\"polishers\" were chosen with care; but it was surprising to these\nworkers to find how large the Christian world is, and how many stood\nready to help if they were shown how.\n\n\"It is one of the best suggestions that that dear Esther has given us.\"\nThis Mrs. Roberts said one evening when the Young Ladies' Band and the\nMonday Club combined their forces and gave an entertainment to some of\nthe best people in the avenue.\n\nI have given you hints of how they did it. They were every one\nChristians, these young ladies; none others were chosen. They worked\nwith a single aim in view\u2014His glory. They took no step that was not\npaved with prayer. Do you need to be told that they succeeded?\n\nThis was one of the reasons why Mr. Colson chatted with Miss Henderson\nwith perfect freedom, and why his bow was graceful and easy when she\nintroduced him to her friend Miss Fanshawe of Philadelphia. He was\naccustomed to being introduced to her friends.\n\nI'm sure I hope you wish I would tell you somewhat of Mart Colson. If\nyou are not deeply interested in her, I am disappointed in you. She has\nbeen such an object of interest to me since that time when I caught a\nglimpse of her once through the cellar window, with a gleam of sunset\nmaking her hair into gold.\n\nIt is a summer evening of which I tell you, and she is all in white,\nexcept her eyes\u2014nothing can be bluer than they are to-night\u2014and except\nthe flowers about her. She is always among the flowers.\n\nI hesitate, after all, to tell you about Mart. Hers is one of those\nstories hard to tell. Besides, her friend and patron has suffered much\ncriticism because of her, and though Mrs. Roberts does not care in the\nleast, I find that I am sensitive.\n\nHas she really kept that Colson girl with her all these years? Yes, she\nhas. I speak it meekly, but she has! And never had her learn a trade,\nor work in a factory, or learn to support herself in any way? She has\nnever sent her anywhere to learn a trade, or to work in a factory, or\nto stand behind a counter. It is too true.\n\nNo, I was almost sure you did not approve of it. But, for all that,\nI don't mean to argue Mrs. Roberts's cause. \"To her own Master she\nstandeth or falleth.\"\n\nNot but what Mrs. Roberts has argued, on occasion\u2014with Gracie Dennis,\nfor instance, who paid her a few weeks' visit, less than three months\nafter she first went home.\n\n\"Flossy,\" she would say, \"what are you going to do with the girl? Do\nyou really mean to keep her here?\"\n\n\"She has no mother, my child, nor father; and her brother is not able\nto care for her yet. Where would you have me send her?\"\n\n\"Why, Flossy, there are places.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, I know it, and this is one of them.\"\n\n\"Well, but she ought to be learning things. How is she going to support\nherself?\"\n\n\"She is studying arithmetic with me, you know, and writing and reading\nwith the dining-room girls; and I am teaching her music; and Mr.\nRoberts proposes to have her join the history class as soon as she is\nsufficiently advanced in the more common studies.\"\n\n\"But, Flossy Shipley, that is great nonsense! You know what I mean. You\ncannot turn the world upside down in that fashion, or make an orphan\nasylum of your house or a charity school.\"\n\n\"My dear, do you really think the house is in danger? Does it look like\nan orphan asylum or feel like a charity school?\"\n\nThen would Gracie Dennis laugh, but look a trifle vexed, nevertheless,\nand mutter that people couldn't do things that way in this world.\n\nThen would Flossy be ready with her gentle drops of oil to soothe the\nruffles.\n\n\"Gracie, dear, I am not trying to reform the world. There are a great\nmany girls left destitute, I know, and I will do at wholesale all I\ncan for them; but this one is peculiar. You have admitted that it was\nunusual to see such dangerous beauty, and she is unusual in her mental\ndevelopment. She could be fierce and wicked; she is ignorant and bitter\nabout many things: I am afraid for her. I have not been able to think\nof a place where the Lord Jesus would have me take her. I must see to\nit that 'he' is pleased, you know, at all hazards. If he does not mean\nus to keep her in the shelter of our home for the present, we do not\nknow what he means.\n\n\"We cannot 'mother' the whole race; he has not even suggested it to our\nhearts. He has simply said, 'Here, take this one; there is room for\nher; keep her until I plainly tell you that her place is elsewhere.'\nGracie, would you have me tell him we cannot?\"\n\nBy this time Gracie would be humble and sweet.\n\n\"It is very good of you,\" she would say meekly; \"and I was not\nthinking of such a thing as finding fault. I was only wondering\nwhether\u2014whether\u2014well, you know, whether such a life as she is leading\nin your house would not unfit her for her proper sphere?\"\n\nBut a sentence like that was always liable to put little Mrs. Roberts\non all the dignity she possessed. Her husband had ideas on that\nsubject, and had imbued her with them. Her voice could even sound\nalmost haughty as she said,\u2014\n\n\"As to that, Gracie, we must remember that the 'sphere' of an American\nwoman is the one that she can fill acceptably in God's sight. He may\ncall her to the highest; I don't know. Since she is the daughter of a\nKing, there may be no spot on his footstool too high for his intentions\nconcerning her.\"\n\nThere was outside criticism, of course. Indeed, Mrs. Roberts was\nsufficiently peculiar in many respects to call for much criticism\nfrom the world. They talked much about \"that girl\" she had picked up.\nGradually they said \"that Colson girl;\" then one day some daughter\nasked, \"Is she really a sister of that handsome Mr. Colson in the\nstore?\" And by-and-by there were some who spoke of her as \"Mattie\nColson.\" That was the name which Mrs. Roberts always called her. It\nbegan gradually to be known also that \"Mattie Colson\" knew a great deal\nwhich was worth knowing. Three years of companionship with a lady like\nMrs. Roberts, and such as she gathers about her, can do much for a girl\nwho wishes much done for her.\n\nAs to \"earning her living,\" I am not sure but she was learning to do\nit in several ways. Mrs. Roberts struggled against all false ideas of\nlife, therefore taught her none.\n\nShe was not the cook, but she could, and had on occasion served up a\nmost enjoyable breakfast.\n\nShe was not the second girl, yet her fingers were undeniably skilful\nin the arrangement of rooms and tables. She was not the sewing girl,\nyet constant were the calls on fingers that had become wise in these\ndirections. She was by no means the nurse, yet there was a little\ngolden-haired \"Flossy\" in the sunny room upstairs whose devoted slave\nshe was, and whose mother felt that Mattie's loving, watchful care over\nher darling was only second to her own, and was so to be relied upon,\nby day and night, as to repay tenfold whatever she might have done for\nthe girl.\n\nIn fact, it would perhaps be difficult to define \"Mart\" Colson's\nposition in the house. Yet she was, as I have said, becoming known\namong the young ladies outside as\u2014\"Mattie Colson, that handsome young\nColson's sister, as pretty as a doll, and a prot\u00e9g\u00e9e of that lovely\nMrs. Roberts, you know.\"\n\nAs for the Young Ladies' Band\u2014I do not include them when I talk of the\ngirls \"outside\"\u2014what they had done for Mattie Colson she could not have\ntold you though she tried, her eyes shining with tears.\n\nThe days had come wherein the very matrons who had said that it was\na strange thing for Mrs. Roberts to take a girl from the slums into\nher family, that it was \"tempting Providence to attempt such violent\nwrenches,\" now said one to another that \"it must be a great relief to\nMrs. Roberts to have that Mattie Colson always at her elbow to see that\neverything about the home was just as it should be.\" And they added,\nwith a sigh, that \"some people were very fortunate.\"\n\nNow, dear critic, you stand all ready to say that this is a very nice\npaper story, but that in actual life attempts at doing good do not\nresult so smoothly; that to be \"natural,\" Mrs. Roberts ought, at least,\nto have tried in vain to reclaim half of her boys.\n\nIt is true, I have said nothing to you about two or three whom she has\nnot as yet reached, though she is still trying. My story was not of\nthem, but of the twenty whom she did reach. Concerning your verdict,\nthere are two things that I want to say: first, go into the work, and\ngive the time and patience and faith and prayer that Mrs. Roberts\nand her fellow-workers gave, before you decide that it is vain. And\nsecondly, will you kindly remember that, whether this be natural or\nnot, it is true?\n\nI do not think I have told you the immediate occasion of this\nparticular gathering. It was, in fact, a reception given to Mrs. Reid.\nIt is not likely that I need tell you at this late day that her name\nwas Gracie Dennis Reid. I could have told you much about it had I been\nwriting a story of that sort.\n\nIn fact, there is a chance for considerable romancing. There are\nmatters of interest that I might tell you about \"Mr. Colson\" himself,\nyoung as he is, and about Mattie who wears to-night a rose that \"she\"\ndid not pick from the conservatory; but I don't mean to tell it.\n\nI have just one other bit of history to give you. They stood together\nfor a moment\u2014the young bridegroom and the lady with whom he had\nfaithfully worked ever since that rainy afternoon in which he had\nconfided his gloom to her. Both were looking at the two young men who\nstood near the piano waiting to join in the chorus. Both had known\nthese young men as \"Nimble Dick\" and \"Black Dirk.\"\n\nStill another of the original seven stood in the immediate vicinity.\nThe glances of the two workers took them all in; then they looked at\neach other and smiled meaningly.\n\n\"I have been thinking of that first Sunday afternoon,\" said Mrs.\nRoberts. \"I asked them to pick up my handkerchief which had dropped,\nand 'Nimble Dick' said, 'Pick it up yourself, mum, you're as able to as\nwe be!' I wonder if they would remember it? What if I should tell them!\"\n\nAs she spoke, the bit of cambric in her hand designedly dropped almost\nat the feet of Dirk Colson. He stooped for it instantly; but \"Nimble\nDick\" was too quick for him, and presented it to the owner with a\ngraceful bow, and a slightly triumphant smile.\n\nBut the chorus was commencing, and the bass and tenor were at once\nabsorbed in their work; so Mr. Reid and Mrs. Roberts had the memorial\nlaugh all to themselves. None but they understood what the white\nhandkerchief said.\n\nDespite the laughter there was a suspicious mist in Mr. Reid's eyes.\n\n\"How far is mirth removed from tears?\" he asked his hostess. And then:\n\"Do you know, when I look at these young men, moving about your rooms\nat their ease, really ornaments to society, and think of the places in\nthe world that they will be likely to fill, and think of what they were\nwhen you first saw them, the overwhelming contrast brings the tears!\"\n\nSaid Mrs. Roberts:\u2014\n\n\"I will tell you something that will do your heart good. Did you know\nthat our young lady helpers had reorganized in larger force, and with\ncertain fixed lines of work which they feel certain they can do? The\neffort has passed out of the realm of mere experiment. They have chosen\na name. They are henceforth to be known as THE ESTHER REID BAND.\n\n\"They came to me for a motto to hang in their rooms below the name; and\nI gave them this:\u2014\n\n   \"'And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are\nthe dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit,\nthat they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.'\"\n\n\n\n                              THE END.","title":"Following heavenward : $b or, The story of Alfred Reid","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":82322}