ESTER RIED

YET SPEAKING. 

BY PANSY, AUTHOR OF "MRS. SOLOMON SMITH LOOKING ON, " "HALL IN THE GROVE, " "A NEWGIFT ON THE FAMILY TREE, " "FIVE FRIENDS, " "MARY BURTON, " "THE POCKETMEASURE, " "ESTER RIED, " ETC. , ETC. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. IT MAY BE THAT SHE IS WORKING STILL

CHAPTER II. WHAT DID IT ALL AMOUNT TO, ANYHOW?

CHAPTER III. ANYTHING UNCOMMON ABOUT ME?

CHAPTER IV. I DON'T BLAME THEM

CHAPTER V. A CHRISTIAN HOME

CHAPTER VI. SATAN HE HAS 'EM ALL THE WEEK

CHAPTER VII. WHAT A LITTLE SCHEMER IT IS

CHAPTER VIII. WHAT WOULD YOU DO, DEAR?

CHAPTER IX. "TREMENDOUS FACTS!" HE SAID

CHAPTER X. AND SHE ALWAYS TRIED

CHAPTER XI. I HAVE BUT TO TRY AGAIN

CHAPTER XII. I WANT THEM TO GET USED TO PARLORS

CHAPTER XIII. LET US BE FASHIONABLE

CHAPTER XIV. "SOMETHING'S HAPPENED!"

CHAPTER XV. WHAT MADE HER DIFFERENT?

CHAPTER XVI. HERE WAS HIS OPPORTUNITY

CHAPTER XVII. I WONDER WHAT THEY'RE ALL AFTER

CHAPTER XVIII. YOURN'S THE WAY

CHAPTER XIX. WE HAVE BEGUN BACKWARDS

CHAPTER XX. OH, WHAT A NICE THOUGHT!

CHAPTER XXI. HAD HIS EXPERIMENT BEEN TOO SEVERE?

CHAPTER XXII. SOME PEOPLE ARE HARD TO WARN

CHAPTER XXIII. PART OF THE GREAT WELL-TO-DO WORLD

CHAPTER XXIV. FOR YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT MAY COME

CHAPTER XXV. WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO ACCOMPLISH?

CHAPTER XXVI. "O LORD, TAKE DIRK TOO!"

CHAPTER XXVII. AN AWFUL PROBLEM

CHAPTER XXVIII. MAY SHE GO WITH ME?

CHAPTER XXIX. WHAT IF I BELONGED?

CHAPTER XXX. IT IS NO MADE-UP AFFAIR

CHAPTER XXXI. THEIR WORKS DO FOLLOW THEM

CHAPTER I. 

"IT MAY BE THAT SHE IS WORKING STILL. "

It was raining drearily, and but few people were abroad--that is, few, comparatively speaking, though the streets seemed full of hurrying, dripping mortals. In the large dry-goods store business was by no meansso brisk as on sunny days, and one of the younger clerks, whose stationwas near a window looking out upon the thoroughfare, had time to standgazing at the passers-by. They did not seem to interest him particularly, or else they puzzled him. His young, handsome face wore a thoughtfullook, almost a troubled expression about the eyes, which seemed to begazing beyond the passers-by. Just across the aisle from him, a lady, seated in one of the easy chairs set for the accommodation of shoppers, waited and watched him, --a young and pretty woman, tastefully, evenelegantly dressed, yet her costume was quite in keeping with the stormyday. The young man's face seemed to have special interest for her, thoughhe apparently was unaware of her existence. A close observer would havediscovered that she was watching him with deeply interested eyes. Whatever served to hold the thoughts of the young man apparently grewin perplexity, for the troubled look continually deepened. At last, forgetting the possible listener, he addressed the dripping clouds, perhaps, --at least, he was looking at them:--

"I don't know how to do it; but something ought to be done. It is worsethan folly to expect good from the way that things are now managed. Ester would have known just what, and how; and how interested she wouldhave been! I try to do her work, and to 'redeem the time;' but thesimple truth is, I don't know how, and nobody else seems to. "

These sentences were not given all at once, but murmured from time totime at his unsympathetic audience outside. 

Patter, patter, patter, drip, drip, drip! steady, uncompromisingbusiness. It was all the answer the clouds vouchsafed him. 

With the listener inside it was different. The interested look changedto an eager one. She left her seat and moved toward the absorbed youngman, breaking in on his reverie with the clearest of voices:--

"I beg your pardon, --but are you thinking of your sister? You are Mr. Ried, I believe? I have heard of your sister's life, and of herbeautiful death, through a dear friend of my husband, who loved Ester. Ihave always wanted to know more about her. I wanted to get acquaintedwith you, so I might ask you things about her. I am waiting now for myhusband to come and introduce us. But perhaps it isn't necessary. Do youknow who I am?"

"It is Mrs. Roberts, I believe?" the young man said, struggling with hisastonishment and embarrassment. 

"Yes, and you are Mr. Alfred Ried. Well, now we know each other withoutany further ceremony. Will you tell me a little about your sister, Mr. Ried? You were thinking of her just now. "

"I was missing her just now, " said he, trying to smile, "as I very oftenam. I was a little fellow when she died; but the older I grow the moredifficult I find it to see how the world can spare her. She was so fullof plans for work, and there are so few like her. "

"It may be that she is working still, in the person of her brother. "

He shook his head energetically, though his face flushed. 

"No, I can only blunder vaguely over work that I know she, with herenergetic ways and quick wits, could have done, and done well. Ithappens that she was especially interested in a class of people of whomI know something. They need help, and I don't know how to help them. Itseems to me that she could have done it. "

"Will you tell me who the people are?"

"It is a set of boys for whom nobody cares, " he said, speaking sadly;"it hardly seems possible that there could ever have been a time whenanybody cared for them, though I suppose their mothers did when theywere little fellows. "

Thus spoke the ignorant young man, --ignorant of the depths to which sinwill sink human nature, but rich in the memory of mother-love. 

"I think of my sister Ester in connection with them, " he said, speakingapologetically, "because she was peculiarly interested in wild youngfellows like them; she thought they might be reached, --that there mightbe ways invented for reaching them, such as had not been yet. She hadplans, and they were good ones. I thought so then, little fellow that Iwas, and I think so now, only nobody is at work carrying them out; and Iwonder sometimes if Ester could have been needed in heaven half as muchas she is needed on earth. She used to talk to me a great deal aboutwhat might be done. I think now that she wanted to put me in the way oftaking up some of the work that she would have done; but she mistook hermaterial. I can't do it. "

"Are you sure? You are young yet, and besides, you may be doing morethan you think. Couldn't I help? What is there that needs doing forthese particular young men?"

"Everything!" he said, excitedly. "If you should see them you would geta faint idea of it. They come occasionally down to the Sabbath-school atthe South End; in fact, they come quite frequently, though I'm sure Ican't see why. It certainly isn't for any good that they get. Theiractions, Mrs. Roberts, surpass anything that I ever imagined. "

"Who is their teacher?"

"That would be a difficult question to answer. They have a differentteacher every Sabbath. No one is willing to undertake the class twice. They have tried all the teachers who attend regularly, and several whohave volunteered for once, and never would attempt it a second time. Just now, there is no one who will make a venture. "

"Have you tried?"

He shook his head emphatically. 

"I know at least so much. Why, Mrs. Roberts, some of them are as old asI, and, indeed, I think one or two are older. No; we have secured thebest teachers that we could for them, but each one has been a failure. Isuppose they must go. "

"Go where?"

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"What an awful question! Where _will_ they go, Mrs. Roberts, if welet them slip now?"

He was tremendously in earnest. One could not help feeling that he hadstudied the possibilities, and felt the danger. 

"Suppose I try to help! Shall I come and take that class next Sabbath?"

This simple, directly-put question brought the young man suddenly fromthe heights of his excitement into visible embarrassment. He looked downon the small, fair lady, reaching hardly to his shoulder, attired inthat unmistakable way which bespeaks the lady of wealth and culture, andcould imagine nothing more incongruous than to have her seated beforethat class of swearing, spitting, fighting boys. Not that her wealth orher culture was an objection, but she looked so utterly unlike what hehad imagined their teacher must be, --she was so small, so frail, so fairand sweet, and ignorant of the ways of the great wicked world, andespecially of those great wicked boys! What could he say to her?

He was so manifestly embarrassed that the small lady laughed. 

"You think I cannot do it, " she said, almost gayly. 

He hastened to answer her. 

"Indeed, you have no idea of the sort of class it is. I have given youno conception of it; I cannot. You would think yourself before a set ofuncaged animals. "

"Yes, and in case of failure I should only be where the others are, whohave tried and failed. If you will introduce me, and your superintendentwill let me, I mean to try; and that will relieve you of the dilemma ofbeing entirely without a teacher for them. "

Young Ried had nothing to say. He thought the attempt a piece offolly, --a worse than useless experiment; but how was he to say so to thewife of his employer?

That gentleman appeared just then, making haste. 

"I was unavoidably detained, " he explained; "I feared you would growweary of waiting. Ah, Ried, my wife has introduced herself, I see. Is hethe young man you were speaking of, Mrs. Roberts?"

"The very young man, --Ester Ried's brother. He doesn't know how glad Iam to have met him. Some day when we are better acquainted, and youtrust me more fully, I am going to tell you how I became so deeplyinterested in your dear sister. Meantime this little matter should bedefinitely settled. Mr. Roberts, I have invited myself to take a classto-morrow down at the South End Mission. "

"Have you, indeed?"

Mr. Roberts spoke heartily, and seemed by no means dismayed, --only atrifle perplexed as to details. 

"How can we manage it, Flossy? My prison class takes me in an oppositedirection at the same hour, you know. "

"Yes, I thought of that; I propose to ask Mr. Ried to call for me, andshow me the way, and vouch for my good intentions after I reach there. Do you suppose he will do it?" She looked smilingly from her husband toyoung Ried, and both waited for his answer. 

"I obey directions, " he said, bowing respectfully to Mr. Roberts. "Am Ito have the honor of being detailed for that service to-morrow?"

"So Mrs. Roberts says, " was the good-humored reply, and then themerchant took his wife away to their waiting carriage that had drawn upbefore the door, leaving Alfred Ried, if the truth must be told, in afume. 

"Much she knows what she is talking about!" he said, jerking certainboxes out of their places on the shelves, and then banging them backagain, seeming to suppose that he was by this process putting hisdepartment in order for closing. "Little bit of a dressed-up doll! Theywill tear her into ribbons, metaphorically, if not literally, beforethis time to-morrow! She thinks, because she is the wife of EvanRoberts, the great merchant, she can go anywhere and do anything, andthat people will respect her. She has never had anything to do with aset of fellows who care less than nothing about money and position, except to be ten times more insolent and outrageous in their conductthan they would if she had less of it! I shall feel like a born idiot inpresenting this pretty little doll to teach that class! Mr. Durant willthink I have lost what few wits I had! What can possess the woman towant to try? It is just because she has no conception of what she isabout! But Mr. Roberts must know--I wonder what he means by permittingit?"

In very much the same state of mind did our young man pilot his new andunsought-for recruit into the crowded mission rooms of the South End onthe following Sabbath afternoon. She looked not one whit less able tocompete with the terrors which awaited the teacher of the formidableclass. 

Her dress was simplicity itself, according to Mrs. Roberts' ideas ofsimplicity; yet, from the row of ostrich tips that bobbed and nodded ateach other, all around the front of her velvet hat, to the buttons ofher neat-fitting boots, she seemed to bring a new atmosphere into theroom. 

Yesterday's rain was over, and the pleasant south windows were aglowwith sunshine. As Mrs. Roberts sat down the sunbeams came and playedabout her face, and she seemed in keeping with them, and with nothingelse around her. 

The superintendent bestowed curious glances on her during the openingexercises. He had seen the shadow on young Ried's face when he seatedher, and had found time to question. 

"Whom have we here?"

"Mrs. Evan Roberts. She wants to try the vacant class! _I_ did notask her, Mr. Durant; she invited herself. "

Mr. Durant looked over at her, and tried to keep his eyes from smiling. 

"She looks very diminutive in every way for such an undertaking. Theywill frighten her out before she commences, will they not?"

"I presume so; but I didn't know what to do. She wanted to come, and Icould not tell her she must not. "

"No, of course, --the occasion is too rare to lose. Very few people askthe privilege of trying that class. There is no teacher for them to-day;and your Mrs. Roberts must learn by experience that some things are moredifficult than others. I will let her try it. "

Meantime, "the boys" of the dreaded class were studying the new face. She was the only person not already seated before a class, and theynaturally judged that she was to be their next victim. They looked ather and then at one another, and winked and coughed and sneezed andnudged elbows and giggled outright, every one of them, --meantime chewingtobacco with all their might, and expectorating freely wherever hejudged it would be most offensive. 

Alfred Ried watched them, inwardly groaning. Being used to their faces, he could plainly read that they anticipated a richer time than usual, and rejoiced greatly over the youth and beauty of their victim. 

But young Ried was not the only one who watched. Mrs. Roberts, withoutseeming to be aware of their presence, lost not a wriggle or a nudge. She was studying her material; and it must be confessed that theystartled her not a little. They represented a different type of humanityfrom her Chautauqua boys, or her boys in the old church athome, --rather, an advanced stage of both those types. 

When Mr. Durant came toward her, the look on his face was notreassuring, it so plainly said that he expected failure, and was sorryfor her as well as for himself. However, with as good grace as he couldassume, he led her to the seat prepared for the teacher, and gave her aformal introduction. 

"Boys, this is Mrs. Roberts, who is willing to try to teach you to-day. I _wish_ you would show her that you know how to behave yourselves. "

Mrs. Roberts wished that he had left her to introduce herself, or thathe had said almost anything rather than what he did; the mischievousgleam in several pairs of eyes said that they meant to show hersomething that they considered far more interesting than that. 

Many were the sympathetic glances that were bestowed on the young andpretty lady as she went to her task. As for Alfred Ried, there was morethan sympathy in his face. He was vexed with the young volunteer andvexed with himself. 

He told himself savagely that this was what came of his silly habit ofthinking aloud. If only he had kept his anxieties about that class tohimself, Mrs. Roberts would never have heard of it, and been tempted toput herself in such a ridiculous position; and if this episode did notbreak him of the habit, he did not know what would. 

He was presently, however, given a class of small boys, with enough oforiginal and acquired depravity about them to keep him intenselyemployed, and the entire school settled to work. 

CHAPTER II. 

"WHAT DID IT ALL AMOUNT TO, ANYHOW?"

Settled, that is, so far as the class of boys in the corner would permitthe use of that term. _They_ had not settled in the least. Two of themindulged in a louder burst of laughter than before, just as Mrs. Robertstook her seat. Yet her face was in no wise ruffled. 

"Good afternoon, " she said, with as much courtesy as she would have usedin addressing gentlemen. "I wonder if you know that I am a stranger inthis great city? You are almost the first acquaintances that I am makingamong the young people, and I have a fancy that I would like to have youall for my friends. Suppose we enter into a compact to be excellent andfaithful friends to one another? What do you say?"

What were they to say? They were slightly taken back, surprised intolistening quietly to the close of the strange sentence, and then givingno answer beyond violent nudges and aside-looks. What did she mean? Wasshe "chaffing" them? This was unlike the opening of any lesson! Itcertainly could not be the first question on the lesson-paper; nor didit sound like certain well-meant admonitions to "try to improve theopportunity" and "learn all that they could. " With each of thesecommencements they were entirely familiar; but this was something new. 

"Do you agree to the compact?" she asked, while they waited, her facebright with smiles. 

"Dunno about that, " said one whom she very soon discovered occupied theposition of a ringleader; "as a general thing, we like to be kind ofcareful about our friendships; we might strike something that wasn'tquite the thing with people in our position. You can't be too careful ina big city, you know. "

It is impossible to give you an idea of the impishness with which thisimpudent answer was jerked out, to the great amusement of the others, who laughed immoderately. 

It suited Mrs. Roberts to treat the reply with perfect seriousness andcomposure. 

"That is very true, " she said, courteously; "but at the same time Iventure to hope that since you know nothing ill of me as yet, you willreceive me into a sort of conditional friendship, with the understandingthat I remain your friend until I am guilty of some conduct that oughtto justify you in deserting me. I am sure you cannot object to that; andnow, if we are to be friends, we should know each other's names. I amMrs. Evan Roberts, and I live at No. 76 East Fifty-fifth Street. I shallbe glad to see you at my house whenever you would like to call on me. Now, will one of you be kind enough to introduce himself and the class?Perhaps you will introduce me to your friends?"

She looked directly at the ringleader. 

"Certainly! certainly, mum!" he replied, briskly. "This is Mr. CarrotPumpkins, at your service, mum--this fellow on my left, I mean; rather aqueer name, I dare say you think. It all came of his being fond ofsitting astride of a pumpkin when he was a little shaver, and of hishair being exactly the color of carrots as you can see for yourself. Andthis fellow on my right is Mr. Champion Chawer, so called because he canmake the biggest run on tobacco of any of the set, taking him day in andday out. That fellow at your elbow is 'Slippery Jim. ' We don't call him'Mister, ' because he doesn't stay long enough in one place to have ittacked on to him. He is such a slippery scamp that an eel is nowhere, compared to him. "

During this rapid flow of words the listeners, who evidently admiredtheir leader, became so convulsed with laughter as to lose all vestigeof respectability, and Mr. Durant's disturbed face appeared in view. 

"Boys, this is perfectly disgraceful!" he said, speaking in sharp andhighly-excited tones, --"perfectly disgraceful! I don't know why you wishto come here to disturb us in this way Sabbath after Sabbath! But wehave really endured enough. There is a policeman at the foot of thestairs, and he can easily call others to his help; so now if you wish toremain here you must behave yourselves. "

During the deliverance of this sentence some of the boys gave mimicgroans, one of them whistled, and others kept up a running comment:--

"A policeman! oh good! that's little Duffer, I know! We've seen himbefore! Wouldn't mind giving him a chase to-day, just for exercise, youknow, mum. "

"I say, boys, let's cut and run, the whole caboodle of us. We can jumpthese seats at one bound, and take the little woman along on ourshoulders for a ride! Shall we do it?" This from the leader, who in timecame to be known as "Nimble Dick. "

"Bah! no!" replied a third; "let's stick it out and see what she's gotto say; she's a new party. Besides, we can't give her the slip in thatway; we're friends of hers, you know. "

"Mrs. Roberts, " said the distressed Mr. Durant, in a not very goodundertone, "I think you will have to give it up. They are worse thanusual this morning. We have endured much from them, and I must say thatmy patience is exhausted. Will you not take the seat at the other end ofthe room?"

"Not unless they wish me to. "

The people who had known Flossy Shipley well would have detected acurious little quiver in her voice, which meant that she was making astrong effort at self-control; but a stranger would hardly have observedit. 

"Do you wish me to go away, young gentlemen?"

The scamps thus appealed to, looked at one another again, as if in doubtwhat to say. This again was new ground to them. Policemen they wereaccustomed to. At last Nimble Dick made answer:--

"No, I'm bound if we do; it comes the nearest to looking like a lark ofanything that we have had in a long time. I say, Parson, go off aboutyour business and let us alone. We was having a good time gettingacquainted till you come and spoiled it. We'll be as sober as ninedeacons at a prayer-meetin'. And look out how you insult this youngwoman; she's a friend of ours, and we're bound to protect her. No askingof her to change her seat; she's going to sit right here to the end ofthe chapter. "

Mr. Durant looked his willingness to summon the police at once, but Mrs. Roberts' voice, evenly poised now, took up the story:--

"Thank you; then I will stay. And since it is getting late, suppose welose no more time. There was something about which I wanted to tell you. But a few evenings ago I attended a gathering where I saw some verysingular things. A gentleman in the party was tied with a strong rope, hands and feet, as firmly as two men could tie him, --people who knew howto tie knots, and they did their best; yet while we stood looking at himhe shook his hand free and held it out to them. How do you think it wasdone?"

"Sham knots!" said one. 

"No, for my husband was one of the gentlemen who tied him, and heassured me that he tied the rope as firmly as he could. Besides, morewonderful things than that were done. I tied my own handkerchief into atleast a dozen very hard knots, and gave it to him, and I saw him put itin a glass of water, then seize it and shake it out, and the knots weregone. I saw him take two clean glasses, and pour water from a pitcherinto one, and it seemed to turn instantly to wine; then he poured thatglass of wine into the other empty glass, and immediately it turned backto water, or seemed to. Dozens of other strange things he did. I shouldreally like to tell you about them all. I will, at some other time; butjust now I think you would like to know _how_ he did them. "

"_How_ he did them!" "As if you could tell!" "_Can_ you tell?" "Pitch in, mum; I'd like to hear that part myself!" These were some of the eageranswers. 

Had the little teacher, under the embarrassments of the occasion, takenleave of her senses? Actually she was bending forward, opened Bibleturned face downward on her knee, engaged in describing in somewhatminute detail the explanations of certain slight-of-hand performanceswhich she had recently seen! What idea of the sacredness of the officeof teacher, and the solemnity of the truths to be taught, had she?

The boys were listening, their heads bent forward all around her. Whatof that? They would have listened equally well to a graphically-toldstory of a Fourth Avenue riot, and been equally benefited, you think?They did not know just when the speaker slipped from the events of lastweek to the events of more than three thousand years ago. Indeed, soignorant were they of all past history, that they were not even awarethat she went back into the past; for aught they knew, she might havegone, on Wednesday of last week to see the man who could untie knotsby magic, and on Thursday to see the men who could drop canes on theground that would appear to turn into wriggling serpents. But there wasone statement that proved too much for their credulity. 

"You could not imagine what occurred next, " said the bright-facedteacher. "The cane or rod that the first man had dropped, actuallyopened its mouth and swallowed the other rods that seemed to beserpents, and was left there alone in its triumph!"

"Oh, bosh!" said Nimble Dick, contempt expressed in the very curve ofhis nose, "that's too steep; I don't believe a word of it! These fellowscan do lots of queer things; I've seen 'em perform, myself; but theynever made a live thing yet; I've heard folks that know, say so. "

"Precisely what I wanted to reach, " said Mrs. Roberts, with animation. "You are right, they never did; and you have discovered just thedifference between them and the one man of whom I have been tellingyou. _He_ worked by the power of God; he distinctly stated that hedid; and that God really turned his rod into a serpent, and allowed itto swallow the imitations of life, and then turned it back again into arod, to show that nothing was beyond his power. "

"Did you see the thing done?" questioned a young skeptic, running histongue into his cheek in a skillful way, and distorting his whole facewith a disagreeable leer. He began to suspect that he was being cheatedinto listening to a Bible story. 

Mrs. Roberts was prompt with her answer:--

"Oh, no, I did not, neither did I see the great fire that you had inthis city about a year ago. At that time I was a thousand miles away;and it so happens that I have never talked with any person who did seeit, yet I know there was a great fire, and many buildings were burned, and lives lost. It has been proved to me. "

"Oh, well, " said skeptic number two, while number one retired intosilence to speculate over this answer, "fires are common enough things;anybody can know that they happen; but it ain't such a common affair tosee a stick turn into a serpent and swallow up other serpents. I've seenthem fellows make things that looked like snakes, myself; I could mostswear to it that I'd seen them wriggle; but they never did no_swallowing_. "

"That is, they did not give unmistakable signs that they were alive. Butdo you think it too strange a thing for God to do? Surely he can makelife! How is it that you are here, breathing, talking, thinking, ifthere is no power anywhere to make life?"

"Oh, I came from a tadpole, " said the boastful young scientist, puttinghis thumbs under his arms, and affecting an air of great wisdom. "I knowall about that; I was there, and see the things wriggle. "

Evolution staring her in the face in a corner class in a missionschool;--a class that had been gathered from the slums! Mrs. Roberts didnot know that these are the very places in which to find it in all itscoarseness. Yet she made haste to meet the boy on his own ground. 

"Very well, if you choose to take that view of it. Was not the tadpolealive? Where did the _life_ come from? You insist that the story Ihave been telling you is untrue because you know that none of thesesleight-of-hand performers have ever, or _can_ ever make actuallife! That it is an impossible thing for human beings to do. Yet when Itell you that _God_ did it you refuse the statement. How are yougoing to account for life? If, in its very lowest forms, it cannot bemade by men who have given all their time to the study of themarvellous, how is it that it is everywhere about us, unless I amcorrect, and there is a Power that can produce life?"

Not a boy among them had heard the term "evolution;" knew anythingabout "the survival of the fittest. " They were entirely ignorant of"protoplasm" or "bioplasm;" yet not one of them but had caught themeaning of some of these terms as they had been translated for theminto the vernacular of the city slums; not one in the class but perceivedthat their champion arguer had been met on his own ground andvanquished. Not with an outburst of horror; he had not even beeninformed that he was irreverent. Nimble Dick delighted in making eachteacher tell him this; he had merely been replied to in the calmest ofargumentative tones, and called upon to account for the facts in his ownstatements, and had been unable to do so. The crowd broke into aderisive laugh, and were noisy, it is true, and brought troubled frownsto the face of their superintendent, and made the flush on Alfred Ried'sface deepen; yet if both these anxious watchers had known it, it wasworthy of note that the laugh had been at the expense of one of theirnumber, and not at their teacher. 

"Well, go on, " interposed the youngest and quietest of the group. "Tellus some more about your old fellow with his serpents. Did they stayswallowed, and what did it all amount to, anyhow?"

Thus challenged, Mrs. Roberts gave her whole heart to the business ofgiving, in as dramatic a manner as she could, the closing scenes in theact performed in Egypt so long ago, carefully avoiding any reference totime, and mentioning no names, using only modern terms, and anexceedingly simple conversational form of language. She was, however, presently interrupted with a question:--

"When did all this happen? And why don't somebody do something like itnowadays?"

Ignoring the first question, Mrs. Roberts adroitly gave herself to thesecond. 

"Why don't you find your pleasure in tumbling around on the floor, playing with a bright-colored marble or two as you did when a child? Theworld was in its childhood when God taught the people in this way. Hehas given them just as wonderful lessons since, but lessons more suitedto men and women who have learned to think and reason. We don't liketo be always treated as children. "

Whether they really dimly understood the meaning or not is possiblydoubtful, yet it appealed to their sense of dignity in so indirect away, that they did not themselves realize what inclined them to quietfor a moment, while she finished her sentence earnestly. In the midst ofthe quiet the closing-bell rang, and the seven young scamps seemed atonce to take into their hearts seven other spirits worse thanthemselves, and behaved abominably during the closing exercises, andtumbled out of the door over each other, in the wildest fashion, themoment the signal was given, halting only to say, in the person of theirleader:--

"You be on hand next Sunday; we like your yarns first rate. "

Mrs. Roberts, with glowing cheeks, and eyes behind which there wereunshed tears, made her way to the desk where Mr. Durant was standing, and spoke quickly:

"There is a difference between others who have tried it and myself, Mr. Durant. The sentence in Mr. Ried's account that gave me courage was, 'Every one has failed, so far; people are unwilling to take the class asecond time. ' I have failed, but I want to try again. "

CHAPTER III. 

"ANYTHING UNCOMMON ABOUT ME?"

Though they rushed out with even more noise than usual, every boy ofthem knew that the noise was to cover a certain sense of shame-facedness, because they had actually been beguiled into listening quietly for a fewminutes to earnest words. 

Directly they had reached the privacy of the street they became quieter. 

"I say, boys, " said Nimble Dick, "is that an awful green one, or a newkind?"

"New, I should say, " replied one of the younger boys; "she ain't likeanything that's been in that room since we got acquainted with it. Idon't know her style, myself. "

"What do you take it she meant by that stuff about being friends, andtelling us where she lived, and all that?"

"Dunno what she meant; but she ain't _green_, you may bet your headon that. I'll tell you what I think, boys: I b'lieve she knows what sheis about, every time. "

What this sage conclusion amounted to, one not acquainted with thedialect of the street might have been at a loss to understand, but therest of the party received it in grave silence and nods of the head, asthough it were a thought that needed careful investigation. In commonparlance, Jerry Tompkins had expressed the opinion that Mrs. Roberts hadsome point to gain in being so uncommonly polite and attentive to them, and they were curious to know what the motive could possibly be. 

They considered the important question in silence until they reached thenext corner; then Nimble Dick, tossing back his head as one who hadthrown off an abstruse problem, and would have none of it, said:--

"Well, what next? We've got through with that fun for to-day. What areyou going to do, boys? Say we go around to Poke's, and see what is goingon there?"

To this proposition there was eager agreement from all the party saveone; he maintained a somewhat moody silence. 

"What say, Dirk?" the leader asked, addressing him; "are you ready forPoke's?"

"No; I don't think I'll go around, just now. "

"What, then? If you've got something better on hand, why don't you let afellow know? We're not dying for Poke's place. "

"I haven't got a thing on hand; only I don't care about going there. "

"Where, then?"

"Nowhere. "

"Nowhere! Mean place. Too cold weather to stop in the streets. There'llbe a good fire at Poke's. You come along; don't go to getting the sulks;it ain't becoming, just after you've been to Sunday-school. "

But the young fellow persisted in gloomily refusing to join them, andpresently they began to tease, in what they meant to be a good-naturedway. 

"Dirk's struck, " said one. "That yellow-haired party has got him by thethroat; I saw her looking at him most uncommon sharp, when she wastelling that biggest story of hers, about the serpent that swallowed. Dirk he thinks he's been swallowed by one of 'em; he feels it chokingin his throat. "

"No, " said another, "that ain't it; Dirk's a-going to get pious. That'shis last dodge; I've seen the spell coming on, for some time. Didn't yousee him pick up that there Bible and lay it on the seat the otherSunday, after Jerry's elbow knocked it off by mistake? I've been scaredabout Dirk ever since; and now he won't go to Poke's! It's a bad sign. Isay, Dirk, maybe there's going to be a prayer-meeting down your way, andyou wouldn't mind letting us come?"

They expected him to laugh, but his face grew blacker than before, andat last he said, in very significant tones:--

"You better hold up there, Scrawly, if you don't want to try the depthof that gutter. "

"Leave him be, " said Nimble Dick, quickly; "he's going into one of histantrums. When he begins like that, there's no end to the fightingthat's in him; and I don't want a row now, --it's too early in the day;besides, I know something that's better fun. You fellows come along withme, and let him go. "

As this was said in a sort of undertone as Dirk strode on ahead; andwhen, at another corner, he dashed down it, leaving them all, there wasno call after him. He was free to go where he would, and for reasonsthat he himself could not have explained he chose that it should behome, --that is, the place which he called home. It might not meet yourideas of what a spot so named should be. The road to it led through oneof the meanest portions of the city. Each foot of the way the housesseemed to grow more squalid looking, and the streets filthier. Theparticular alley down which he dived at last was narrower and blackerthan any yet passed, and the cellar door which he pushed open let himinto the meanest-looking house in the row, --a long, low, dark room. Inone corner there was the remnant of a stove, braced up by bricks andstones, but no fire was burning therein, though the day was cold. Furniture there was none, unless the usual rickety table and two brokenchairs could be called by that name. A door was ajar that led into aninner cellar, and a glimpse of piles of offensive looking rags, thatwere called "bed-clothes" by the family, might have given you an idea ofwhat their home life was, as hardly any other phase of it can. The ragswere not all in the further cellar, however; a gay patch-work quilt, orat least one that had once been gay, but from which bits of black cottonnow oozed in every direction, seemed to have curled itself in a heapagainst the one window. However, it moved soon after Dirk opened thedoor, and showed itself to be more than a quilt. Inside was a younggirl, the quilt wrapped around her closely, drawn up about her face andhead, as if she would hide all but her eyes within, and try to get ridof shivering. 

"You home?" she said, her tones expressing surprise, but at the sametime indifference. "What is it for?"

"Because I wanted to come. Hasn't a fellow a right to come home if hewants to?"

"Of course; and it's such a lovely home, and you are so fond of it, noone need wonder at your coming in the middle of the day. "

The sentence was sarcastic enough, but the tones were hardly so; theyexpressed too much indifference even for sarcasm. 

Dirk surveyed her thoughtfully; he seemed to have no answer ready. Infact, his face wore almost a startled air, and really the thought whichpresented itself for consideration was startling. Something about theface of the girl, done up so grotesquely in her ragged quilt, suggestedthe lady who had been his teacher at the Mission! Could one find asharper contrast than existed between these two? Yet Dirk, as he looked, could not get away from it. 

"What are you staring at?" the girl asked, presently, growing uneasy overthe fixedness of his gaze. "Do you see anything uncommon about me?"

"Where's mother?" he asked, dropping his eyes, and turning from her. 

"In there, asleep. You needn't talk quite so loud; it won't hurt her toget a bit of rest. She sat up till morning, poking at your old coat. "

Dirk looked down at it thoughtfully. There had been an attempt to makeit decent, although the setting of the patches showed an unpractisedhand, and they were of a strikingly different color from the coatitself. 

"You might have done it for her, then, in the daytime, " he said, briefly, and added, "Where's father?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders. 

"How should I know? Where he is most of the time; you know more aboutit than I do, or ought to; you live on the street. "

He gave her an answer which seemed to surprise her:--

"I say, Mart, what is the use in being so horrid cross all the time?"

"You are so good-natured, " she said, "and everything is so nice andpleasant around me, it is a wonder that I should ever be cross!"

"That's all lost, Mart, for I never said I was good-natured, nor thoughtI was; and if I don't know just how hateful things are, I should like toknow who does! But, after all, what good does it do to snarl? Whycouldn't you and me say a good-natured word once in a while, just fora change?"

"Try it, " she said; "I wish you would! I'm so tired of things as theynow are, that most any change would be fine. But I'll risk your doingmuch in that line; it isn't in you. "

What was there in this cross girl to remind any one in his senses ofMrs. Evan Roberts? Yet even as she spoke that last ungracious sentence, she turned a little, so that a slant beam of sunshine--one of the fewthat ever found its way into this dreary room--laid a streak of lightjust across her hair, yellowing it until it was almost the shade that hehad noted in the lady at the Mission; and he thought of her again, andwondered curiously whether, if Mart were dressed in the shining blackdress, and fur wraps and feather-decked bonnet that the lady had worn, she would really resemble her. How would Mart look dressed up, hewondered; even decently dressed, as the girls were whom he met on thestreets. He had never seen her in anything much more becoming than theragged quilt. He was studying her in a way that Mart did not in theleast understand. She broke the spell suddenly again:--

"Have you had any dinner?"

"Dinner? Why, no! of course not! Where would I find that sort of thing?I looked all up and down the streets, and smelled plenty of it, but nota bite did I get. "

"Where have you been?"

"Oh, around in several places; not much of anywhere. "

"I know where you've been, "--a severe light coming into her eyes; "you'vebeen down to the South End, and if I was you I'd be ashamed ofmyself! I know how you fellows go on down there. Sallie Calkins goes, and she told me all about it. She said that she was ashamed to live onthe same street with any of you, and that none of the folks in theMission knew what to do with you, and the next thing you knew you wouldall be marched off to the lockup. "

"Let them try it, " muttered Dirk, his face growing darker; "we'd makethat street too hot to hold them in short order if they played at anysuch game as that, and I guess they know it. "

"Well, anyhow, I wouldn't be meaner and lower down than I had to be, Dirk Colson! It is bad enough as it is, --a drunkard for a father, and wenothing more than beggars! But I'd behave myself half-way decent when Iwent among folks that wanted to be good to me, or else I'd stay away. "

"Look here, you keep your preaching for them that wants to hear it; Idon't. A fellow can't come home without having a row; if it isn't of onekind, it's another. I wonder I ever come home at all. "

Dirk was angry now, and his dark, thin face looked fierce with passion. His sister kept the curiously composed tone and manner with which shehad said all her exasperating things. 

"I wonder you do, " she said. "I suppose you get starved, and can't helpit, now and then. There's some dinner I saved for you. If you want it, eat it, and then take yourself to some place that suits you better. "

As she spoke, she jerked open the door of a little cupboard near whichshe stood, and brought therefrom a much-cracked plate, on which lay abaked potato, with one end broken or bitten off, then carefullyreplaced, as if the owner might have had a second thought as to itsdisposal; there was also a bit of corn-bread, somewhat burned, and halfof a roasted apple. 

Meagre as the fare was for a hungry boy, there was more variety than hehad expected, and something in the simple preparation touched him, andquieted his anger. 

"Where did this come from?" he asked, taking in the unaccustomed morselof apple with two eager bites. "I tell you, that is good!"

"Sally Calkins gave it to me last night. She got one give to hersomewhere. "

Just as the last bite was gone, it occurred to Dirk, first to wonder, and then to be almost certain, that his sister, having shared the apple, had saved her entire share for him. It was not the first time he hadknown of such an effort on her part to supply him with food. Had hethought of it sooner he would certainly have left a bit of the daintyfor her; but no thought of telling her so, for an instant crossed hismind. Neither had she, on her part, the slightest idea of describing tohim with what care and patience she and Sallie had roasted the choicemorsel before Sallie's fire, only last night, --Sallie's father beingfortunately late in coming, and so giving them a chance; then she hadborne hers home in a bit of paper, and carefully guarded it all day, just for this hour. Also, she might have told him that she bit the endfrom the potato before she remembered that there would be none left forhim, and then fitted it on again as best she could, and went without. She would not have told him for worlds. Why? She could not haveexplained why. Something within her shrank from letting him know, notthat she sacrificed for him, but that she _cared_ enough for him towant to do it!

Potato and corn-bread were gone, to the last crumb; it seemed to Dirkthat there had been only enough of them to show him how hungry he was. 

"I suppose there isn't anything more?" he said, wistfully, with therising inflection, indeed, but not as one who had any idea of receivingan affirmative answer. 

"I should think there wasn't!"--defiance in the tone--"there's a pieceof bread that I kept for mother's supper, and I mean she shall have it. "

"Well, don't bite me! I'm perfectly willing that she shall. Isn't thereanything for a fire?"

"Only some chips that I'm saving till mother has her nap out. "

"You better go to bed yourself, then; it's awful cold here. "

"I ain't going to stir from this corner so long as this streak of lightlasts. It isn't so very often I see it that I can afford to lose it. "

Her brother turned and looked at her. She had gathered the folds of theragged quilt about her again, and was crouching at the low window, andthe very last gleam that the sunshine would vouchsafe them came andglimmered in her hair. 

There it was again, --that mysterious, haunting resemblance! What wouldMart think if he told her of it? Probably that he was trying to poke funat her. At least, he should not experiment. Yet he could not helpwondering again, how Mart would look if she were dressed like otherpeople. 

"I say, Mart, " he began, suddenly, breaking the stillness, "let's youand I get out of this, where it is warmer. Come and take a walk down onthe avenue; the sun will shine yet for half an hour, and it is real warmand bright. "

"In this quilt?" she asked, significantly, looking down at it. 

The boy's face darkened. 

"Hasn't your shawl got out of pawn yet?"

"How should it?"

He flung himself angrily out of the broken chair, picked up his raggedcap, and strode angrily and noisily across the room, out at the door, stumbling up the steps, like one half-blind with disgust or rage, andwent on swift feet down the street out of sight. And Mart, poor Mart, left thus to solitude, let the last beam of the sun go without watching, and buried her face in the ragged quilt and cried. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"I DON'T BLAME THEM. "

It was not a "pet" name. Poor Mart Colson would not have known what todo with a pet name. Her life had not taught her how to use such phrases;how she came to be named Martha, she did not know; but a hollow-eyed, sad-voiced woman could have told her of a country home, long ago, wherethere were daffodils blowing in the early spring, almost under the snow;where, later, the earth was turned into sky, or the stars came down andgleamed all over her father's fields, so plentiful were the dandelions;and the breath of the clover came in at all the open windows, and thecows--her father's cows--coming home from pasture, and the tinkle oftheir bells were sights and sounds familiar to her ear. She sat thereone summer evening, in the back-door, watching the glory and the peace, and studying, between times, her Sabbath lesson. Often and often thewords came back to her in future years. "Now Jesus loved Martha and hersister and Lazarus. " That was one of the verses. Was it a dim memory ofthe words, and a sort of blind reaching out after their fulfilment, thatled her to name her poor little two-days-old baby, Martha? The old homehad vanished, the sweet-scented meadows, the tinkling bells, the peaceand the plenty, were as utterly things of the past as though they hadnot been. Mother, and father, and one brother, were gone, lying ingrass-grown, neglected graves; and she--why the two-days-old baby'sfather was _drunk_; and had been for three weeks! A hard, hateful-sounding word, --coarse, almost. Why don't I say intoxicated? Oh, because I can't! I've no desire to find smooth-sounding words with whichto cover the sin of that baby's father. But the mother named her Martha. She never told her why, if, indeed, she herself fully knew; it was not afamily name. Gradually, after the fashion of the times, she sought toshorten the name; and because they had not sweet, short words, as "Pet, "and "Dear" and "Sweet, "--all such belong to happy homes, --they grew tocalling her Mart. And now even she herself hardly realized that she hadever owned to any other call. Poor Mart! I find myself wanting to usethe adjective over and over again when I speak of her. Such a desolate, loveless life! Always a drunken father, --she had never known any other;always a sharp-toned, weary-eyed, disheartened mother, who shut hertenderness for the child within herself, as one who could not afford toshow it. Then Dirk, the one brother, going astray almost as soon as hewas born. What wonder, from such a home? Yet Mart wondered and feltbitter over it. Why could not Dirk be like some others of whom she knew?Like Sallie Calkin's brother, for instance, who worked day and night, and brought home, often and often, an apple, or a herring, or sometimeseven a picture paper for Sallie! Mart was sharp-tongued; all her lifehad taught her to be so. She spoke sharp words out of the bitterness ofher heart at Dirk, and of late rarely anything but sharp words, yet--andthis was Mart's secret, hidden away as if it were something of which tobe ashamed--she _loved_ Dirk, loved him fiercely, with all thepent-up wealth of her young heart; and often, _because_ she lovedhim, she was harsh and bitter towards him, though she did not herselfunderstand why this should be. 

As for Dirk, he walked rapidly but for a few blocks; his dinner had beentoo insufficient to give him strength, after the first aimless anger hadsubsided. Then came the question what to do with himself. Why hadn't hegone with the fellows? More than likely some of them had contrived a wayto get a dinner. Why had he persisted in sullenly leaving them all andgoing home?

He had not the least idea why he had been impelled to go home. Now thathe was fairly away from home again, he had no idea what to do withhimself. A place where he could warm his feet and his hands, where hecould get a bite to eat, possibly, --this last would be an immenseattraction, but was not a necessity, and he did not expect it, --butwarmth, at least, he felt that he must have. Where would he find it?What place had been provided for such as he? He ought by this time tohave been earning his own living, to have had a corner which he couldcall home, earned by himself, where some of the decencies of life weregathered. Of course he ought; but the painful fact to meet just now, wasthat he had not done his duty. He had gone astray; not so far but thatthere were plenty of chances to go farther, greater deeps to which hemight yet reach, but far enough to all but break any watchful mother'sheart; only that _his_ mother's heart was broken before he wasborn. The simple question waiting to be solved was this: Having done aspoorly for himself as under the circumstances he well could, what wasDirk Colson to do next? He had no idea; neither, apparently, hadmultitudes of Christian people engaged in praying that the Father's willmight be done on earth, even as it was in heaven. The young man walkedsix blocks down the respectable avenue, lined with pleasant homes, wherethe people went to church, and read their Bibles, and had family prayers, and kept holy the Sabbath day. Not a door among them all openedand held out a winning signal to arrest his heedless feet. Not so Satan!Is he ever caught idling at his post?

Just around the corner from the respectable avenue (and around thecorner Dirk presently turned, still uncertain what to do, where to findthe warmth he craved) then the winning invitations for such as he beganto present themselves. Saloons, and saloons, and saloons! How many ofthem were there? Far outnumbering the churches! Pleasant they looked, too; opening doors, ever and anon, revealing brightness and warmthwithin. They would like to see him inside. Of this Dirk was sure; notthat he had money, but he had something that in such places often servedhim well, --a decided and dangerous talent for imitating any and everypeculiarity of voice or manner that had chanced to come under hisnotice. He could make the fellows in these saloons roar with laughter. If he did particularly well, they were willing to order for him a glassof beer, or a fairly good cigar; in any case he had a chance to getwarm. This was actually Dirk's only present source of income! Yet heshrank from it; he could not have told you why, but on this particularSabbath he was averse to earning his coveted warmth in this way. Hewalked resolutely by two or three places where he had reason to think hemight be welcomed, wondering vaguely whether there wasn't something elsea fellow could do to keep himself from freezing. Oddly enough thereseemed to be something about the glimmer of sunshine as he saw it inMart's hair that kept him from halting before any of the places open tohim. What if she had come out with him to take a walk; he could nothave taken her into one of them! Then, poor fellow, he set himself towondering where the place was, open and warmed, to which he could takeMart. There were places, several of them, in the large city; but Dirkknew nothing about them, and he was acquainted with the saloons. Hethought of another thing; he had been invited to call at a house on EastFifty-fifth Street. Suppose he should walk up there this very afternoonand ring the bell, and say that he had come to call! What would happenthen? Whereupon he laughed aloud. The fancy seemed to him so utterlypreposterous. The idea of _his_ making a call! The utter improbability ofhis ever seeing the inside of one of the East Fifty-fifth Street mansions!

Still remained that hopeless question: What should he do with himself?The sun was quite gone now, and a cold wind was blowing up freshlyfrom the north. It blew directly through Dirk's threadbare garments. Heturned suddenly and slipped inside one of the worst of the many saloonswhich literally lined this end of the street. He had refused to go withthe boys to Poke's, an hour or two before, and this was several gradesbelow Poke's in decency! But it was growing dark, and he was cold. 

There was one young man who saw him dash down those cellar stairs, who stood still and looked at him, his face darkening the while withdiscouragement. This, then, was all the afternoon's Sabbath-school hadaccomplished for him. To be sure he was not disappointed at the result;it was no more than he had expected; but it was so discouraging to bean eye-witness to the degradation to which these young wretches hadfallen! Of course the young man was Alfred Ried, and he went home, and was dreary, over all sorts of failures in Christian work, missionSabbath-schools especially; and their own, more especially than anyother. 

Among the early shoppers on Monday morning came Mrs. Evan Roberts. Shopping, however, seemed to be a small part of her business. She camedirectly to young Ried's counter, and addressed him very much as thoughshe had ceased talking with him but a moment before:--

"Mr. Ried, what can you and I do for those boys during the week?"

But Alfred was at his gloomiest. 

"I don't see that we can do anything for them at any time, " he said, dismally. "What is an hour on Sunday, set against all the rest of thetime? They go from the school-room to the rum saloons, and dawdle awaythe rest of the day. Yesterday I met that young Colson going into one ofthe worst saloons on Dey Street. They are not to blame, either. " Thislast in a fiercer tone, after a slight pause. "I don't blame them; theyhave nowhere else to go, and nothing to do; and it is cold on thestreets, and warm in the saloons. "

If he expected the small lady, who was regarding him so steadily, totake the other side of this question, he was disappointed. She spokequietly enough, but with the earnestness of conviction. 

"Those are startling facts. I do not see how one could be surprised thatthe results are they are; and the practical question forces itself uponus, What are we to do under the circumstances? Mr. Ried, you have hadyour eyes open in regard to this subject for some time; what have youthought out?"

Now was Mr. Alfred Ried embarrassed. It was true that his eyes had beenlong open to the subject; it was true that he had given it a great dealof what he had called thought. But with those alert eyes fixed on hisface, her whole manner indicating intense earnestness, he suddenlyrealized that all his thought had been to no purpose, had accomplishednothing, unless it had served to give him a feeling almost of irritationagainst the boys, and their teachers who made failures, and the peoplewho folded their hands and let things go to ruin. Here confronted himone, whose hands were not folded, though they rested quietly enough onthe counter before him. He began to feel that there might be latentpower in them. 

"I have nothing to say, " and he said it at last with flushed face andembarrassed voice; "I have thought out nothing. The whole thing seemedhopeless to me with my utter lack of resources. My sister had schemes, many of them, and they seemed to me good ones, even then; they seembetter now, only I cannot carry them out. "

She caught at the name. 

"Your sister? Ester Ried? Good! Let us carry them out, you and I, and asmany more as we can get to help us. She is at work yet, --don't you see?What is that prophecy about her?--that voice which the prophet heard, you know, 'And I heard a voice saying unto me, Write, Blessed are thedead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, thatthey may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them. '"

How strangely the words sounded, repeated in her low, clear voice, amidthe hum of business on every side! Alfred Ried felt singularly moved. Hehad been a highly strung, imaginative child. He had been his sisterEster's almost constant companion during those last months in which shewas slowly fading out of sight. While Julia held steadily to hermother's side, and learned to do many helpful things, he had beenstationed chief nurse in Ester's room, to see that she lacked for notender care during the hours when others must be away from her. Andthose hours she had tenderly improved. He remembered to this day justhow she looked, with a pink flush all over her cheeks, and a brightlight in her eyes, as she talked to him of the things that she and Dr. Douglass had meant to do for boys, --neglected, homeless, friendlessboys. Oh, the plans they had carefully thought out, to reach after theseforsaken ones! He remembered that his own cheeks had grown hot while helistened, and the blood had seemed to race like fire through his veinswhen she said, "God wants _me_ for something else, Alfred; but youwill do my work when you get to be a man; you will find helpers, andcarry it on as I wanted to do. " He had made no audible answer, but hehad told himself sturdily again and again that he certainly would. Yethere he was, barely of age, and almost soured by disappointments. Certain well-meant attempts having proved failures, and having not foundthe helpers whom he had eagerly expected, the magnitude of the workimpressed itself upon him more remorselessly each hour. Yet now heseemed to feel again the thrill in his veins, and he felt almost underthe power of his sister's eye while those words were in his ears: "Theyrest from their labors, and their works do follow them. " Might itpossibly be that this was one of the "helpers" of whom Ester used totalk, sent by God himself to take up her planned work and follow it out?Yet she was so utterly unlike his memory of Ester! She had seemed tohim a self-reliant, strong-toned woman; Mrs. Roberts was so small andfrail-looking, and so fashionably dressed, and how those boys had actedwith her only yesterday! What could she possibly do?

Customers came just then, to change the current of his thoughts. Theywanted round collars, and deep collars, and fichus, and edges, and ahundred little irritating things. Young Ried, usually so gracious andpatient, had much ado to keep from showing his annoyance over thesmallness of all their wishes. 

Meantime Mrs. Roberts, who had taken a seat, entered apparently withabsorption into the relative merits of round or pointed collars with ayoung lady acquaintance. She patiently measured to discover whetherthe turned-down corner of one was a quarter of an inch deeper than theother or not; she gave, with due deliberation, her opinion as to whetherthe points were more becoming to the young lady's style of beautythan the rolling fronts, and even went to the trouble of unfastening herfurs to show still another style that she liked better than either; sendingthe disgusted Alfred to an entirely different box in search of a likepattern. As he went, his lip curled visibly. What a fool he had beento allow himself to get momentarily excited over this doll! Howpreposterous in him to mention his dead sister's name to her! She hadalready forgotten the entire matter, and was deep in the merits ofcollars! His first estimate of her had been the correct one. Her mindwas just about as deep, he believed, as the tiny collar she wasmeasuring. What a farce it was to talk to her about helping those poorfellows! She probably thought a few soup tickets, and a chance for agood Christmas dinner at some of the public charity halls, was the wayto reach and reform them. _He_ shouldn't help her; she mustn't expectit. Doubtless she did not. Probably she had by this time forgotten thatshe had suggested it. Why need she putter here about a few collars for ayoung lady in her own circle to wear with her morning dresses? That wasjust it, he told himself. It was because she _was_ in her circle, andbecause the collars were to be honored by being worn by such as she, that they became important, and the boys and their desperate needs sunkinto insignificance. Well, he wished they would both go, and leave himto himself; give him a chance to rally from his momentary excitement, ofwhich he was now ashamed. 

At last the collars were bought, --but not until the counter was strewnwith different sorts; and the lady, with many bright little nothings forlast words, moved off to another part of the store, and Mrs. Robertswhirled on her seat until her eyes were in full view again, and said:

"What were some of her plans, Mr. Ried?"

CHAPTER V. 

"A CHRISTIAN HOME. "

"I don't suppose you can go into detail just now, " she added, notingyoung Ried's hesitation and embarrassment; "but I was wondering if youcould give me some general idea of what she wanted to do, or thoughtcould be done. "

"There were a great many things that she wanted to do, and I believeshe thought they could be done; but I don't think she knew the worldvery well, " said this aged cynic. "She judged everybody from thestandpoint of her own unselfishness. I remember she was not in sympathywith soup-houses, and dinner-tickets, and great public charities ofthat sort. Or, I don't know that I should say she was not in sympathywith them. I mean, rather, that those would not have been her ways ofworking. She was thinking of young people, and to give them a dinnernow and then, she would not have considered a very great step towardelevating them morally and spiritually. Mrs. Roberts, it was just thatwhich she wanted to do, --lift them up. She thought there could beinvented ways of reaching them, so that they would want helping, wantteaching, --_crave_ it, I mean; and she thought that Christian homes ofwealth and culture could be opened to them, and they gradually toledin, --made to feel on a level with others, in the social scale; inshort, she believed that instead of people going down to them in acondescending spirit, they could be drawn up to the level of others, sothat they would realize their manhood, and be led to make earnestefforts to take their rightful places in the world. I know I ambungling dreadfully; I don't know how to tell you her plans, only thatthey were splendid. But I am afraid the world will have to be madeover, before they can be carried out. "

"Perhaps so. Christ is at work making the world over, you know. " Thelady before him, whose eyes never for an instant moved from his face, spoke with exceeding sweetness and gravity. Neither by word nor glancedid she give him to understand that she thought his schemes wild. "But Ifind that, after all, I want details. I catch a glimpse of the grandnessof your sister's meaning. What were some of the steps, --the littlesteps, such as you and I could take, toward accomplishing? Yet, evenwhile I ask the question, I see something of what the answer must be. 'Christian homes opening to receive them!' That is a new thought to me, and in the plural number I do not see how just now, it could be done, but _one_ Christian home, --I ought to be able to manage that. Mr. Ried, that is the way to begin it, you may depend. Indeed, I suppose you havetried it? The city is full of boys, and many of them are away down. Since we cannot reach all of them this week, we must try to reach seven;and failing in that, suppose we say one? For which one have you beenworking? Just who, at this moment, specially interests you? I hope it isone of my boys, because, you see, they appeal to me, just now, as noothers can. Which is it, Mr. Ried? and what have you tried to do forhim? and to what extent have you succeeded?"

There were never any hotter cheeks than young Ried's just at thatmoment. This was the most extraordinary person with whom he had evertalked. It was impossible to generalize with her. Not that he wanted togeneralize; on the contrary, he at once saw the possibilities growingout of individual effort, and caught at the idea of undertakingsomething. But the question was, Why had he not thought of it before?One person to reach after, and try for!--surely, he might have attemptedit, instead of trying to carry the hundreds that he stumbled against, and so accomplish nothing for any of them. It was humiliating, theconfession that he had to make:--

"Indeed, Mrs. Roberts, I have not one in mind. If you asked me what onehundred I was most anxious about, I might possibly be able to answer;but I see that there has been no individuality about it, unless, perhaps, the half-dozen or more boys who compose that class are taking alittle stronger hold on me than any of the others; but even for them Ihave tried to do nothing, unless two or three attempts to secure apermanent teacher for them--which have ended in failure--may count foreffort. I don't blame myself as much as I might, because, now that yousuggest personal work to me, I realize that there is nothing for onesituated as I am to do. I have no Christian home at my command. "

"Ah, but we are to come down to very small numbers, you know, --tofractions, if need be. You have a piece of Christian home at command, Itrust?"

But he looked at her inquiringly, and she explained:--

"Why, you have the privacy of your own room, which is, of course, yourcorner of home just now, and it is a Christian corner. Is there not roomin it sometimes for two?"

He smiled faintly over that. 

"Mrs. Roberts, there is one thing with which you evidently are notfamiliar, and that is the corner which a poor clerk in the city hasto call home. Mine is the fourth story back of a fourth-rateboarding-house, where the thermometer drops often below thefreezing-point, and this place I share with as uncongenial a fellow asever breathed. What would you think of labelling such accommodations'home?' and what can I do in it for others?"

"Not much, perhaps, " smiling, "unless for the uncongenial fellow. Ishould think there might be a chance in this direction. "

"Ah, but, " he said, eagerly, "he is a Christian. My sympathies do notneed to be drawn out in that direction. "

The smile was a peculiar one now, but the tone was very quiet in whichthe little lady said that some time, when they had leisure to talk, sheshould like to ask him whether his experience with Christians had beenso exceptionally bright that he thought there was no work to do in thatdirection. 

"But just now, " she added, earnestly, "I want to know, since you areshut away from home effort, for which of these boys you are prayingespecially, and which of them do you carry about on your heart, withthe hope of a chance meeting, an unexpected, opportunity to speak aword, or do a kindness, or look a kindness that shall give you possiblefuture influence? Don't you have to work in those ways? Two peoplenever equally interest me at the same moment. I find I must be intenselyindividual, not to the exclusion of others, but in praying. For instance, yesterday I prayed, and this morning I prayed, for my entire class, butthere was one all the time who was uppermost. I find myself questioning, What can I do for them all, but especially for him? Do you know, I fancythat most Christians feel the same; individual effort is so necessarythat I have thought perhaps the Holy Spirit turns our thoughts mostdirectly toward one person at a time, so that we may concentrate ourefforts. Do you think this is so?"

Young Ried did not answer promptly; he had no answer ready that suitedhim. His strongest feeling just then was one of self-reproach, mingledwith humiliation. How had he looked down on this fair and beautifullittle woman, --her very beauty being, he had fancied, an element againsther when it came to actual effort. How had he allowed himself to sneerover her attempts at teaching that class of boys! How actually irritablehe had been over it! How almost angrily he had questioned why it wasthat a teacher was not found for them fitted to their needs; when he hadprayed about it so much; determined not to believe that the prayer hadbeen answered, and the teacher found; yet here she was, the one whoseefforts he had despised, talking already about individual prayer forthem, while he, who had done a great amount of fretting for them, hadnot once presented them as individuals to Christ, and asked a definiteblessing for each! His answer, when it came, was low and full offeeling:--

"I have concentrated my desires in praying for the coming of such ateacher as might get hold of them; and I begin to think that I have ananswer to my prayers. "

But she was absolutely proof against compliments. She wasted not amoment's thought on that, but said:--

"Mr. Ried, who are they? I tried to get their names yesterday, but soonsaw that they were not in the mood to help me. I don't think I have onecorrect name. Can you give me a list?"

No, he could not--which admission did not lessen the glow on his cheek. Possibly he could mention the names of two, and guess at a third, but ofthe others he knew nothing. 

"To whom, then, can I go? Mr. Durant would know, of course. Where shallI find him?"

So much Alfred knew. Mr. Durant was to be found at the Fourth NationalBank; but, as for giving information in regard to that class, he wassure it was beyond him. He (Alfred) had asked only last Sabbath who theboy was who behaved so wretchedly, and also who was the fellow next him, but Mr. Durant had not known. 

Well, then, Mrs. Roberts said, nothing daunted, not even a shadowappearing on her quiet face, she must just study it out with his help. 

"There is immediate work for you, " she said, "for of course I want toknow their names. Who are the two? This Dirk Colson, whom youmentioned, --which was he?"

Alfred described him as well as his bewilderment would allow, and wasinterrupted--

"Oh, the small dark one. I know, --he interested me. Where does he live?"

But to this question no clear answer could be given. Down in one of thealleys towards the South End; but just which alley, or how far down it, Alfred did not know. He knew it was a disreputable alley, and that therewasn't a decent home anywhere about it, and that was all. 

"What does Dirk do for a living?"

This question was quite as difficult to answer as the other. Nothing, young Ried believed; at least nothing regular; odd jobs he doubtlesspicked up occasionally, but as for regular employment, Alfred was surehe had none. 

"Is that his fault? I mean, doesn't he desire work, and make an effortto secure it?"

But this young Ried could not even pretend to answer. Work, for such ashe, was scarce; boys with better habits, brought up to be industrious, were at this present time out of work. Possibly the fellow was not toblame for being an idler. 

Many other questions were asked, and many attempts were made at answers;but when the shoppers began to press in, to such a degree that theirconversation was broken, and the energetic seeker after information feltherself obliged to retire, one thing had been accomplished: Alfred Riedhad been made to realize that he knew much less than he had supposed hedid about the seven boys who had seemed to be filling his thoughts forseveral weeks; and also, in his eager, passionate desire that everythingshould be done for all of them, he had overlooked the chances for doinghere and there some little thing for one of them. 

"Good morning, " Mrs. Roberts had said, turning cordially to afashionably-dressed lady. "Collars? Oh, yes, this is the counter for themto be found in endless variety. They have a new pattern that I havebeen admiring. Mr. Ried, please show Mrs. Emory the curtain collars, with embroidered points. "

Which thing Mr. Ried proceeded to do with alacrity and respect, no traceof the earlier contemptuous feeling shadowing his face. Here was a womanwho knew stylish collars when she saw them, and who also knew severalother things, and had taught him a lesson this very morning that hewould not be likely to forget. 

But Mrs. Roberts, as she made her way out from the fast-filling store, felt that she had not made great progress toward getting acquainted withher class. 

Still it must be admitted that if young Ried had gotten some new ideas, so also had she. "A Christian home!" She found herself repeating thephrase, lingering over it, wondering if her new home, in every sense ofthe word, merited that title. "It cannot simply mean a home where Christis honored, " she said to herself. "I surely have that. It rather means ahome where everything pertaining to it serves His cause. The veryfurniture and the light and the brightness are made to do duty for Him, else they have no place there; and I, labelled Christian, have no rightto them. Can they bear the test, I wonder? What is there that I can dowith all the beauties of my parlors? There are things that I have notdone. I can see some to do; but how can my Christian home serve theseboys? When I get them into it, of course it will work for me; but how toget them in! Who are they? I wonder what spring I can touch to give meeven this meagre bit of information?"

As if in answer to her mental query, she came just then full uponPoliceman Duffer. She recognized him instantly: a man who, though byno means small, was so far from having the majestic presence of mostpolicemen that, in the estimation of the boys, he merited the name"Little Duffer. " Mrs. Roberts carried to her new work one talent notalways to be found among even efficient workers, --the ability toremember both names and faces. Especially did a name seem, without anyeffort on her part, to fasten itself upon her memory; and not only that, but it brought with it a train of memories enabling her to locate whenand where, and under what circumstances, she heard the name; and, therefore, generally whom the name fitted. Recognizing the features ofthe policeman whom she had seen at the door of the South End Mission, she connected him at once with the term "Little Duffer, " heard in herclass, and addressed him:--

"Mr. Duffer, I believe. "

It is safe to say that Policeman Duffer, entirely accustomed as he wasto hearing himself addressed officially a hundred or a thousand times aday, was yet utterly unaccustomed to the prefix of "Mr. ", and started insurprise. 

"Are you not the gentleman whom I saw at the South End last Sabbath?"

The policeman admitted that he probably was. He was detailed for dutythere. Then she plunged at once into business. Did he know the boys whoattended that school? Some of them he did, better than he wanted to; anda precious set they were, in Policeman Duffer's opinion. 

"Might as well go out to the Zoo, " he declared, "and get a set ofanimals and try to tame 'em. "

Mrs. Roberts was not in the mood to argue; she was bent on information. Did he know, she wondered, the boys who composed her class? She had justtaken the class, and was so unfortunate as not to be acquainted withtheir names. One was Dirk Colson, and another she had heard wasHaskell--Timothy Haskell, perhaps, though of that she was not certain. Did that give Mr. Duffer any clue?

"Plenty of clue, " he said, shaking his head. "So you've taken thatclass, ma'am?"--a curious mixture of amazement and credulity in hisvoice. "What possessed you, if I may be so bold? They're a hard lot, ma'am. I know them, as I said, altogether too well. I've had enough todo with some of them; and I expect more work from them. They gain inwickedness in a most surprising way. Their names, yes; there's Scrawleyand Sneaking Billy, and Black Dirk, --him you know. "

Mrs. Roberts interrupted him. She begged his pardon, but could thosereally be the boys names? Were they not rather some unfortunate streetnames that had been fastened upon them?

Thus brought back to his senses, Policeman Duffer laughed, and admittedthat he supposed Sneaking Billy was properly named Sneyder; but he wasonce caught in a mean trick, from which he tried in so many ways tosquirm out, that the boys had themselves named him Sneaking Billy, andthe name had stuck. 

As for "Scrawley, " his real name was Stephen Crowley. How it becamecontracted into "Scrawley" the boys could tell better than anybody else. They always called him that, and so did other people; and PolicemanDuffer was inclined to doubt whether the fellow remembered that he hadany other name. 

"You can see yourself, ma'am, " he added, "how Black Dirk came by hisname. He is the blackest white fellow as ever I saw, and I've seencrowds of 'em. "

The streets were full, and Policeman Duffer was being interviewed by agreat many people in regard to all the questions that policemen areexpected to answer. But by dint of patient waiting, one foot poised on acurbstone to keep it out of the mud, making hurried little memorandawhile Policeman Duffer was engaged, and earnestly plying her questionswhen he was at leisure, Mrs. Roberts learned the names of her sevenboys, and where several of them lived. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"SATAN, HE HAS 'EM ALL THE WEEK. "

"That Black Dirk is a case, " said Policeman Duffer, turning hastily awayfrom an unusually stupid man, who could not be made to understandwhere a certain street was. "He is the worst of the lot, _I_ believe. Jerry Tompkins is slyer, and Dick Bolton is quicker than lightning atmischief; Nimble Dick they call him; he's a sort of ringleader; what hedoes the rest are apt to; but, to my thinking, Dirk is ahead of them allfor evil. The rest are kind of jolly; fun seems to be about half thatthey are after; but Dirk, he's sullen; you never know how to take him, nor when he may burst out on you. He's dangerous. I am always lookingout for something awful that he will do. "

Poor Dirk! Yet he was the boy to whom Mrs. Roberts' desires had goneout the most anxiously. It was over his image that she had lingered thatmorning in her closet. Policeman Duffer would have been greatlyastonished had he known there was that in his words which gave hercourage. "Perhaps, " she said to herself, with quickening breath, "oh, perhaps the poor boy is the most in danger of them all, and the Saviour, knowing it, sees ways in which I may reach him, and so presses his poor, sullen face on my memory. "

"What does he do for a living?" she hastened to ask. 

"Well, to the best of my knowledge, he loafs for a living. That's allI've ever known him guilty of doing. He's got a drunken father, --one ofthe meanest kind of drunkards. If he would go and stay drunk all thetime and leave them alone they might manage; but he has spells ofgetting half over it, and coming home and tearing around like allpossessed. Then they have times! I've been in there when it took all mystrength to manage him. If he would get killed in one of his rows I'dhave some hope of the rest of 'em; but he won't. That kind of folksnever do get killed; it's the decent ones. A fellow was carried by herejust with a broken leg, --a nice, decent boy; works hard to help hissister. He's the sort now that gets his leg broken and gets laid up forthe rest of the winter. How do you account for that? He lives prettynear Black Dirk's. Of course, he's got a drunken father; they all havein that row; but if I was going in for benevolence I'd twice as soon dosomething for young Calkins as for any of your set; they're a bad lot. They aren't worth lifting a finger for. Now, that's a fact. "

"And yet, " said Mrs. Roberts, her voice tremulous with a feeling thatjust then surged over her, "how can I help remembering that if the LordJesus had said that of us, and stayed up there in his glory, we shouldhave been utterly without help or hope to-day?"

Very much astonished was Policeman Duffer. Ladies on all sorts oferrands had consulted him. He had been presented with many tracts inhis day; but rarely had a clear-voiced, earnest-eyed woman quietlyconfronted him with that name, as if it contained an unanswerableargument. However, he was not embarrassed; it took a great deal toembarrass him. 

"I don't take much stock in him, " he said, with a lofty toss of hishead, and a careless tone, as though the question were one easy todispose of. "I don't believe in him myself. "

"Do you know him?"

Earnest eyes, raised to his face, fixed steadily on his face, while thequestioner waited quietly for an answer. 

Policeman Duffer was embarrassed now; he was not used to beingconfronted with such matter-of-fact questions. 

"Do I know him?" with a confused little laugh. "Why, I reckon not, ma'am; according to the popular notion he is too far away for folks tobe well acquainted. "

"Then popular notion is mistaken, for I know him very well indeed; andhe is by no means far away. But what I meant was, Have you studiedhis life and character, and do you fully understand the arguments forbelieving in him?"

"I study the folks who profess to belong to him, ma'am, and I find thatabout as much as I can stand. "

This was said with a saucy little laugh, and with the air of a man whobelieved he had produced an unanswerable argument. The steady eyes didnot move from his face, and the voice which answered him had lost noneof its quietness:--

"But do you think it is wise to spend your time in studying theimperfect copies, without looking at the perfect pattern? You would nottake the child's careless imitation as a proof that his teacher couldnot write. I thank you for helping me to-day. I wish you would help myboys when you can; and I wish you would study my Master instead of me. Good morning. "

"That's a queer party!" did Policeman Duffer exclaim, as he watched herfar down the street. "I'm blessed if I wouldn't like to know who she is;she ain't like the rest, somehow. _Her_ boys! Much she knows about'em! Her _bears_ she might as well call 'em! What does she thinkshe can do with that set in her little hour, Sunday afternoon? Satan, hehas 'em all the week, and looks after 'em sharp; and then theseChristians come in of a Sunday, and mince a little, and think they canupset his doings by it. Shows their sense! But she's a curious littleparty; sharp, without knowing it. I'm blessed if I don't keep an eye onher, and save her from scrapes, if I can. "

Meantime, all unconscious of his good intentions, Mrs. Roberts pursuedher way down the thronged avenue, and presently turned from it entirely, and moved down one of the side-streets with resolute steps. A daringthought had come into her mind; she would try to find the alley whereone at least of her boys lived. It couldn't be worse than some of thealleys at home which she had penetrated. She felt certain that byfollowing the policeman's directions she could find the place, andpossibly be able to minister to the boy with a broken limb. At allevents, it was necessary for her to know how her boys lived, and wherethey lived, if she were to reach them. But there are alleys, and_alleys_, as the venturesome lady found to her cost. This one intowhich she was plunging excelled anything in that line which she had everimagined, --swarming with life in its most repulsive forms, and growingevery moment more terrifying to a well-dressed woman braving its horrorsalone. 

She stopped in dismay at last, admitting, reluctantly, that the wisestthing she could do was to turn around and go home. Possibly the_wisest_, but not, it appeared, practicable. Where _was_ home?Down which of the cross-streets had she come? Did this one where shestood lead to it, or did it lead, as it appeared to her, in an entirelyopposite direction? She looked up and down and across for some familiarlandmark, and looked in vain, growing momentarily more frightened at theattention she was attracting by standing irresolutely there. FlossyShipley, in her girlhood days, had been almost a hopeless coward; andFlossy Roberts felt, by the throbbing of her heart, that she had not yetoutgrown her girlish character. Suddenly she gave a little exclamationof delight, and with a spring forward laid her hand on the arm of onewhom she recognized, none other than "Nimble Dick" himself. 

"I am so glad, " she said to the amazed young scamp, a little quiver ofsatisfaction in her voice, "so glad to have met you. Do you know you area friend in need? I have lost my way. I cannot decide which way to turnto reach Fifth Avenue again. Will you help me, please?"

When had Nimble Dick lost an opportunity for fun at the expense ofanother? Here was a chance for a jolly lark! A woman scared to deathbecause she was on Green alley. What would she think of Burk Street!Suppose he should send her there? Only three blocks away, through alovelier part of the city than she had seen yet, he would venture! Ifthe crowds here showed her too much attention, it would be worthsomething to see how she got through Burk Street. 

"Oh, yes, " he said, briskly, "I can show you the way in a twinkling. Youjust go down this alley till you come to the big house on the corner, that has the windows all knocked out of it; then you turn and go downthat street till you get to the third crossing; then turn again to theright, and you'll be on Fifth Avenue before you know it. "

Had Mrs. Roberts been looking at his face, she would have seen thewicked light dancing in his eyes over the thought that he had thusmapped out for her a walk through the very worst portion of the city, every step, of course, leading her further and further away from FifthAvenue. The sights that she might see, and the mishaps which might occurto her, --a handsomely-dressed woman alone, --before she made her waythrough the horrors of these streets were too much even for NimbleDick's imagination, who knew the locality well. He did not try tocalculate them, but gave himself up to the enjoyment of imagining howlong it would be before she would reach home if she followed hisdirections. "She won't see no swallowing serpents that I knows of, " hereflected, gleefully; "but I'll miss my reckoning if she don't see whatwill scare her worse than they would. "

But Mrs. Roberts was already "scared. " She felt her heart beating hard, and knew that her cheeks were aglow with excitement and vague terror. She was not used to walking such streets alone. She looked ahead at theway pointed out, and could see that the swarming life grew more turbidas far as her eye could reach. She felt that she could not brave itsterrors unprotected. Suddenly she turned from looking down the alley, and her hand, a small, delicately-gloved hand, was again laid on NimbleDick's arm; he could feel it trembling. 

"I suppose I shall seem very foolish to you, " she said, gently; "but Iam afraid to walk down there alone. Would you mind going along with meto protect me? I am only a woman, you know, and we are apt to becowards. "

A very curious sensation came over Nimble Dick. He looked up the alley, and down the alley, and was glad that not one of the "fellows" was insight. What was to become of his lark? But there was that hand stillresting on his arm, with a persuasive touch in it; and he had never beenappealed to for protection before, --never in his life! Was it possiblethat with _him_ she would not be afraid? He turned and looked ather, searchingly, a scowl on his face, --no, she was not "shamming;" hereyes were full of anxious fear, and also of petition. Nimble Dick wasamazed at himself and ashamed of himself; he did not know how to accountfor his sudden change of intention. But he suddenly turned in anopposite direction from the one which he had pointed out, and said, "Come on, then; I'll show you a shorter way, " and strode forward. 

"Oh, thank you!" she said, relief and gratitude in her voice. "I shallbe so much obliged to you for coming with me; I am quite bewildered;cannot decide which way I came, or anything about it. I was trying tofind the house of a young man who has been hurt. A policeman told methat he lived on this street, and that his name is Calkins. I wasthinking about him, and walked on without noticing, until I did not knowwhere I was. Do you know anything of the young man?"

"You are too far down for him, " said Nimble Dick. "He's quality, andlives at the upper end of the alley. That's his house, away up there. He's hurt bad, they say; but I s'pose he'll get well. He's got a qualitydoctor, --a regular swell, who never come into these alleys before. Hewas going along when they brought Mark home, and he followed them in, and he come there again last night and this morning. I dunno what for, I'm sure. Mark Calkins can't pay no doctor's bills, if he does workregular, and pay more rent than the rest of folks. "

There was a curious mixture of complaint and satisfaction in Dick'stone. Mrs. Roberts gathered from it that the young man, Mark Calkins, inwhom the policeman had tried to interest her, was superior to the restof the miserable people in the alley, and that they resented it as aninsult to themselves; but that, at the same time, the reflected honor ofhaving a "swell" doctor come into their midst, attendant upon one whoreally belonged to their class, was very great. Could she possibly get alittle influence over them by following up the injured young man, andgiving what help was needful? She had hardly meant to call, thoughtrying to find the house. Her method of reasoning had been somethinglike this: "The policeman said he lived about two blocks from my poorDirk's home. Since there has so recently been an accident, there may besomething to mark the house, --a doctor passing in, possibly, orsomething that shall give me a landmark, and I can have a glimpse of theoutside of one of the homes. " In her ignorance of life at that end ofthe social scale she did not know that a doctor passing in and out, evenafter an accident, was a sufficiently rare occurrence to make much moreof a mark than she was looking for. So absorbed had she been over theboys belonging to her class that she had rather ignored the policeman'smanifest hint to add this one to her list. Yet, was it possibly ananswer to her prayer, an entering-wedge of some sort, that might openthe way to influence?

"Who is the doctor?" she asked her guide, as the possibility of makingan entrance through him occurred to her. "Do you know his name?"

Oh yes, Dick knew his name and where he lived, and even the names ofsome of his "swell" patients;--trust him for gaining information aboutanything that came into the alley. 

"It's Dr. Everett, " he said promptly, that curious touch of prideappearing again in his voice. "He lives away up among theTwenty-thirders, and he goes to Cady's house to doctor, and lots of themplaces where the big ones lives. I dunno how he happens to come here. "

Mrs. Roberts had never heard the name, but she reflected that she was anew-comer, and wisely desisted from taking from the glory of Dr. Everettby admitting that he was not known to all the world. He might be a gooddoctor and a philanthropic one; his visits to this region looked like it. 

"Do you know where any of the boys in our class live?"

This was her next carefully-worded question. She did not know whether tohint that she had heard of one who lived in that alley, or whether thiswould be considered an insult. 

"Well, " said Nimble Dick, the sly twinkle coming back to his eyes that thestrangeness of the situation had driven away for a moment, "I calculatethat I know where I live _myself_; sometimes I do, anyhow. "

"To be sure!" she said, laughing at his humor. "I should have said, whereany of the others live. Of course you will give me your address, afterbeing so kind as to see me to--some point where I am acquainted. "

She had nearly said a place of safety, but checked herself in time. I amnot sure, though, that Dick would have noticed it; he was lost inastonishment over the idea of giving anybody his address!

"This is Dirk Colson's house, " he said, suddenly, "and he is one of ourfellows. "

Mrs. Roberts uttered an exclamation. The house was one of the most forlornin the row, seeming, if the miserable state of the buildings would admitof comparison, to be more out of repair than the others. It came home toher just then, with a sudden, desolating force, that human beings, such asshe was trying to reach, and such as she hoped would live in heavenforever, called such earthly habitations as these homes. What possibleidea could they ever get of heaven by calling it "home"?

"Do they have the whole of the house?"

She asked the question timidly, for the building looked very large, butshe was utterly unused to city tenement life. 

"The _whole_ of that house?" Dick fairly shouted the sentence, andbent himself double with laughter. "Well, I should say not, mum! Asnear as I can calculate, about thirty-five different families have thatpleasure. The whole of the house! Oh, my! What a greeny!" And helaughed again. 

Mrs. Roberts exerted herself to laugh with him, albeit she washorror-stricken. Thirty-five families in one house! How could they beother than awful in their ways of living?

"I know almost nothing about great cities, " she said; "my home was ina much smaller one. "

This was the truth, but not the whole truth. Instinct kept this veritablelady, in the truest sense of the word, from explaining that she knewnothing about the abject poor, when she was speaking to one oftheir number. Just at this moment occurred a diversion; they had beenmaking swift progress through the alley, Dick's long strides requiringeffort on his companion's part to keep by his side, but just ahead theway was obstructed. 

CHAPTER VII. 

"WHAT A LITTLE SCHEMER IT IS. "

A riot! Not among men, which is sufficiently terrifying; nor yet amongwomen, which is worse; but that most awful of all sights and sounds ofsin, --a riot among the children. Swearing, spitting at one another, tearing one another's hair, scratching like tigers, growling like wildbeasts, throwing garbage at one another! This was the sort of crowd uponwhich Mrs. Roberts, in her black silk walking-suit, with her velvet hatand seal furs, presently came. She grasped at Dick's arm in horror, buta feeling that was more than terror was taking her strength away. 

"Oh!" she said, and the agony in her voice really suggested more thanterror to the young fellow beside her. "And they are little children!They cannot be more than seven or eight! Oh, what can I do?"

"You needn't be scared, mum!" There was a little hint of something likepity in Dick's voice. She clung to him so that he could not help feelinghimself her protector. "It ain't an uncommon row at all; they mostly actlike this; most likely one of 'em's found a bone and t' other one wantsit, and then they're gone in for a row, and all the young ones crowdaround and fight, on one side or t' other. "

Did this fearful explanation make the situation less terrible?

There was a lull, however, in the quarrel. The elegantly-dressed ladywas seen approaching, --an unusual sight in that alley, --and bothparties paused to get a view. Paused in their attentions to each other, that is; but at Mrs. Roberts they hooted and jeered, and one threw ahandful of mud. 

Then did Nimble Dick rise to his position as protector. 

"Shut up, there! Stand aside, Pluck, and let us pass! Look out there, you Smirchy! Don't you throw that over here unless you want your headbroke for you when I get back!"

This threat was thrown at a wretched little girl, who had dived her handdeeply into a box or cask of garbage, and brought it forth reeking withrotten apples, pork fat, and any liquid horror which the name suggests toyou. She had her hand uplifted ready to throw, and was evidentlyintending to give the strange lady the benefit of what she had preparedfor one of the rioters. 

The assured tone in which Nimble Dick spoke had its effect; thecombatants were all small, and he was large, and was evidentlyrecognized as a power. There were some defiant glances thrown at him, but the motley crowd gave way, and allowed him to pass uninjured. Stillhe kept an alert watch of them until quite out of reach, and was notsparing of his admonitions. 

"Hold on there, Bill, --I see that! Look out, Sally! You'll be sorry ifyou throw anything, --mind you that!"

And at last they were through the crowd. Not out of danger, it seemed;for there, directly in their narrow path, was a drunken man, swayingfrom side to side in the way which is so terrible to one unused to suchsights. Dick felt the hold on his arm tighten, and was astonished at thesound of his own voice as he said, soothingly:--

"You needn't be scared at him, mum; that's only old Jock; he's as uglyas old Nick himself, but he knows better than to be very ugly to me. Ican throw him in the gutter as easy as I could them young ones, and heknows it. That's Dirk's father, that is! Ain't he a beauty?"

And again Mrs. Roberts uttered an exclamation of dismay, and part of herterror went out in sorrow over the wrongs of a boy who had such a homeand such a father. What ought to be expected of him?

That interminable alley was conquered at last, and they emerged intorespectability on the broad avenue. Mrs. Roberts released her hold ofher protector's arm, and his new character vanished on the instant. 

"You're here, mum, " he said, with a saucy twinkle in his eye and a saucyleer on his face. "Can you get yourself home from this spot, or shall Iborrow a wheelbarrow and tote you there?"

Much shaken with various emotions though she was, Mrs. Roberts forcedherself to laugh. She would not frown on his fun when it was notpositively sinful; he might not be aware that it was disrespectful; hemight never have heard the word. 

"I know the way now, thank you; at least I think I do. Can you tell mewhether I take a green car or a yellow one to get to East Fifty-fifthStreet?"

"You take a green one, " he said, quietly, his character of protectorhaving returned to him with the question, which still showed herdependence on him. 

"Thank you, " she said again, with great heartiness. "I shall neverforget your care of me. " Her hand was in her pocket, and a bright coinwas between her fingers. She longed to give it to Nimble Dick; he hadsaved her from so much this morning. And he was so miserably clad, surely he needed help. A moment's reflection, and she resolutelywithdrew her hand. He should be paid by a simple hearty, "Thank you!"this morning, for kindness rendered. He might not consider it a currentcoin, but possibly it would be his first lesson in the courtesies oflife. 

Later in the day, when Mrs. Roberts was somewhat rested from hermorning's campaign, young Ried received a little note:--

Dear Mr. Ried, --I know the names of all the boys, and inclose you alist. It is possible that you may fall in with some one during the daywho can impart knowledge concerning them. Anyway, I thought you wouldlike to know their names. Keep me posted, please, as to your success inmaking their acquaintance. We are allies, remember. 

Yours for the Master, Mrs. E. L. Roberts. 

Alfred Ried twisted the delicate note-paper thoughtfully in his hand, alook of perplexity on his face. He felt committed for labor; glad washe, very, yet perplexed. He did not in the least know where to commence. Well, neither had this little lady; yet she had accomplished more in herone day's acquaintance than he after a lapse of weeks. Either she hadfound opportunities, or had made them. There must be chances; he wouldbe sure to keep his eyes open after this. 

In the handsome house on East Fifty-fifth Street, where Mr. Roberts hadsettled his bride, after a somewhat extended business tour, involvingmonths of absence, matters were in train for a cosy evening in thelibrary. That was the name of the beautiful room where the husbandand wife sat down together; but it was quite unlike the conventionallibrary. Books there were in lavish abundance, but there were alsopictures and flowers and a singing-bird or two, and an utter absence ofthat severe attention to business details which characterizes most roomsso named. Little prettinesses, which Mr. Roberts smilingly admitted didnot belong to a library, were yet established there, with an air of havingcome to stay. "We will call it the library for convenience, " the masterof the house said, "and then we will put into it whatever we please. Itshall be a conservatory, and a sewing-room and a lounging-room andanything else that you and I choose to make it. " And Mrs. Robertsgleefully assented, and gave free rein to her pretty tastes. FlossyShipley had been wont to be much trammelled with the ways inwhich "they" did everything; but Mrs. Evan Roberts was learning that, in unimportant matters at least, they had a right to be a law untothemselves. Perhaps it helped her, to be aware that a large class ofpeople were all ready to quote "Mrs. Evan Roberts" as authority onalmost any point of taste. 

On the evening in question Mr. Roberts, in dressing-gown and slippers, had drawn his lounging-chair to the drop-light, preparatory to ahalf-hour of reading aloud. But it transpired that there was somethingpreparatory to that, or at least that must take the precedence. Certainbusiness telegrams followed him home, which required the writing of twoor three business letters. 

"It will not take me long, " he explained to his wife, "and they are notcomplicated affairs, so I give you leave to talk right on while Idispatch them. " She laughed at this hint about her fondness for talk, but presently made use of the privilege. 

"Evan, what sort of a young man do you consider Mr. Ried?"

"Ried? Who? Oh, my clerk? The very best sort; a most estimablefellow, --one of a thousand. By the way, did you tell him how you becameinterested in that sister of his?"

"Not yet; I want to get better acquainted. But, Evan, do you know wherehe boards?"

Hardly; on Third Avenue somewhere, I believe; or possibly Second. Thestore register would show. Do you want his address!"

"Oh, I know _where_ it is; but I mean what sort of a place is it?"

Mr. Roberts slightly elevated his shapely shoulders. 

"It is a boarding-house, where many clerks board; that tells a dolefulstory to the initiated, I suspect. Poor fare and dismal surroundings;still, it is eminently respectable. "

"Where does he spend his Sabbaths?"

The rapidly-moving pen executed nearly two lines of handsome writingbefore Mr. Roberts was ready to respond to this question. 

"Why, at church, principally, I fancy. He is very regular in hisattendance at morning service, and the South End Mission absorbs hisafternoons. I suppose he goes to church in the evening; but since wehave been giving our attention to that evening mission I have not seenhim. "

"Ah, but, Evan, I mean the rest of the time; those little bits ofSabbath time that are sacred to home. The twilight, for instance, or foran hour in the morning. Do you know what sort of a place he has forthose times?"

Nearly three more lines added to the paper; then Mr. Roberts raised hishead:--

"No, my dear, I don't. Now that you bring me face to face with thequestion, it seems a surprising thing to say that I should not know wherea young man who has been for more than a year in our employ spendshis choice bits of time, but I don't. "

"Then I want to tell you something about it. He has a dingy, fourth-story back room; small, I fancy, from the way in which he spokeof it, and not a speck of fire over! In such weather as this, how can ayoung man read his Bible, or even pray, under such circumstances?"

Mr. Roberts laid down his pen and sat erect, regarding his wife with athoughtful, far-away air. 

"Flossy, " he said at last, "it is an immense question! You open a perfectmine of anxiety and doubt. I have hovered around the edges for sometime, but have generally contrived to shut my eyes and refuse to lookinto it, because I was afraid of what I might see; and because I did notknow--what to do with my knowledge. I have not been the workingmember of the firm very long, you know, and my special field, untillately, has been the other side of the ocean; but I have been at homelong enough to know that there are several hundred young men in ouremploy who are away from their homes; and knowing, as I do, the priceof board in respectable houses, and knowing the salaries which the youngerones receive, it does not require a great deal of penetration to discoverthat they must have rather dreary homes here, to put it mildly. The factis, Flossy, I haven't wanted to look into this thing very closely, becauseI do not see the remedy. Look at our house, for instance, with its threehundred clerks, we'll say, who are away from their friends; supposeone-half, or even one-third, of them are miserably situated, what canI do?"

"Are they not sufficiently well paid to have the ordinary comforts oflife?"

"Doubtful. The truth is, what you and I call the ordinary comforts oflife takes a good deal of money; and in the city, rents are high, andthe boarding-house keepers have hard struggles to make theirexpenditures meet their income, and they carry economy to the very vergeof meanness, --some of them fairly over the verge, I presume; and theresult is cheap food, badly cooked, --because well-cooked food meanshigh-priced help, --and cold rooms and dreariness and discomforteverywhere. Now what can be done about it? Then our house is onlyone of hundreds, and in many of these hundreds they employ more helpand give less wages than we; in fact, I know that some of our clerks arelooked upon with envy by a great many young men. We never have anytrouble in supplying vacancies. People swarm around us, because we havethe reputation of being liberal. We are not liberal, however; sometimes Iam inclined to think we are hardly fair, yet there is nothing I can do. Iam a junior partner, with a great deal of the responsibility, and athird of the voting power, and I can't get salaries raised. I've beenworking at that problem at intervals for a year, and have accomplishedvery little. Do you wonder that I keep my eyes as closely shut as Ican?"

His wife's face wore a thoughtful, not to say perplexed look; she seemedto have no answer ready; and, after waiting a moment for it, Mr. Robertsbent himself again to the task of getting his business letters answered. Before he had written one more line, her face had cleared. Sheinterrupted him:--

"Evan, when you talk about four hundred clerks, and multiply that byhundreds of houses and more hundreds of clerks, I cannot follow you atall. It is not that I am not impressed with the number, --I am, --itappalls me; but I don't want to be appalled; I want to be helpful. Perhaps just now there is nothing that I can do for the hundreds, so Iwant to narrow my thoughts down to what, possibly, I can do. What, forinstance, can be done towards getting a good young man, like AlfredRied, into a place that will be just a little bit like a home; that willgive him a spot where he can study his Bible in comfort, and invite afriend with whom he wants to pray, or whom he wants to reach and helpin any way? That isn't a huge problem. Can't it be solved?"

Her husband smiled. 

"He is only one of thousands, " he said. 

"Yes, I know; but he is _one_ of thousands. Since we cannot reachthousands, shall we fail to reach one? Evan, I am only one of thousands, but, but how would you argue about me?"

Mr. Roberts laughed again. 

"You are one out of thousands and thousands!" he said, emphatically. 

A line more, and he signed the firm name with an unusually fineflourish. 

"There! I've accomplished one letter. What do you want to do, Flossy?"

"I want Mr. Ried to have a room where he can invite one of my boysoccasionally, and make him comfortable, and do for him what we cannotwith our rooms; do for him what only a young man can do for a young man. I don't clearly know what I want further than that, but I see that onething as a stepping-stone. Remember, I want all your thousands to havejust as pleasant rooms, and I would like to help to bring it about, butI don't just now see the way. "

"Do you see the way to this?"

"No, but doesn't it seem as though we ought to be able to accomplish somuch?"

"It does, certainly. What is your desire, Flossy? Do you want him tohave a room in our house?"

She shook her head. 

"No, that would not further my plan for those boys. I would like to havehim here, and it would be a good thing for him, --at least I think itwould; but I can see things which he could accomplish for these youngmen, set by himself, in a different part of the city. Besides, Evan, Ihave other plans for our rooms, entirely different ones, and some ofthem I am afraid you will think are very strange. "

He answered the doubt with a smile that said he had no fears of her orher plans. 

"What a little schemer it is!" he said, looking down on her with fond, proud eyes. "Who would have imagined that she could plot, and plot somysteriously? I used to think she was a very open-hearted woman. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

"WHAT WOULD YOU DO, DEAR?"

She joined in his laugh albeit, there was a tender look in her eyes. After a moment, she said, gently:--

"It is not scheming, Evan; I am only trying to set about the work forwhich I have been chosen. I'll tell you how it all came to me. I wasreading--my morning reading, you know--after you had gone; taking littledips here and there in the fashion that you think is so unsystematic, and I came upon this verse: 'He is a chosen vessel unto me, ' you know, about Paul? Well, it came to me with a sudden sense of awe and beauty, the being chosen of God to do a great work. I stopped reading to thinkit out; what a grand moment it must have been to Paul when he realizedit. And I began to feel almost sorry that we lived in such differenttimes, with no such opportunities! I stopped right in the midst of myfolly to remember that I was as certainly chosen of God as ever Paulwas; for assuredly I did not come to him of myself, nor begin to lovehim of myself, and therefore he must indeed have chosen me; and Iwondered whether probably each Christian had not a work to do asdefinite as Paul's--a work that would be given to no other, unlessindeed the chosen one failed. I did not want to fail, and I asked Godnot to let me. Then, of course, I set to wondering what my work, or mypart of some other person's work, could be. It was the morning after youhad told me that about Ester Ried. You cannot think how that impressedme. I could not get away from the wonderment as to how her work wasprospering, and whether there were chosen ones enough, or if there mightpossibly be a little place for me. I couldn't settle anything, andfinally I decided to look at Paul's work a little while. Of course, itwas not reasonable to suppose that the duties of the great apostle hadanything in common with my bits of effort; still, I said, the directionsgiven him may help me a little. And Evan, what do you think was thefirst thing I found? Why, this: 'The God of our fathers hath chosenthee, that thou _shouldst know his will_. ' Surely, so far, thethings for which both he and I were chosen were parallel. I lookedfurther: 'And see that Just One. ' That was the very next. Was not I, too, chosen for that? 'Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty. ' Isaid over the beautiful promise to assure myself that it was true, andwent on: 'And shouldst hear the voice of his mouth. ' Was it not strange, Evan? Certainly I shall hear my King speak, often and often, when I gethome. Only think of it; so far Paul was not ahead of me. I hurried tofind another reference to Paul's work, and I found this; let me read itto you. " Her bit of dainty sewing was suddenly pushed one side, and upfrom the depths of the rose-lined work-basket came a small, plainly-bound Bible, much marked; a rapid turning of the leaves, and theeager disciple read: "I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, tomake thee a minister and a witness, both of these things which thou hastseen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee. " Now, Evan, you know the veriest child can be a witness if he knows anythingabout the facts; and I do certainly know some wonderful things aboutJesus to which I could witness; and besides, isn't it reasonable tosuppose that he will appear to me every day with things for me towitness to? And then I read this; Paul sent to the Gentiles, you know, but for what: 'To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness tolight, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receiveforgiveness of sins and inheritance among them which are sanctified, byfaith that is in me. ' Evan, was there ever a more wonderful work to doin the world than that? And yet I cannot tell you how it made me feel todiscover, or at least to realize, that a great deal of it was my work!Of course, I naturally began to ask myself, what Gentile was there forme to reach? Whose eyes must I try to open? Do you know, that veryafternoon I met Mr. Ried, and heard of those boys? They interested mefrom the first, and what he told me about his sister increased theinterest. Then when I saw them!--Evan, if ever boys were in the power ofSatan they are; and to think that they may have an inheritance amongthem which are sanctified! This morning when I saw where some some ofthem lived, and imagined how they lived, I fell stunned for a moment. Itseemed to me impossible. What means could possibly be found ofsufficient power to fit them for such an inheritance? And then directlycame the closing words of the commission: 'Through faith that is in me. 'Evan, God will save them; and I think he will let me help. "

"Amen!" said Mr. Roberts, and his voice was husky. When his wife was inone of her exalted moods he always admired her with a sort of reverence. He had been for years an earnest worker. He carried business plans andbusiness principles into the work; he studied cause and effect, andcalculated and expected certain results to follow certain causes, like amathematical problem; not that he by any means forgot the power offaith, or in any sense attempted to do his work alone. He was aChristian who spent much time on his knees; but little Flossy broughtso much of the childlike, unquestioning spirit into her work, thatsometimes he stood in awe, not knowing whether he could follow her. Itwas not so much a mathematical problem to be worked out, as it was thefaith that can remove mountains. 

 "As a little child relies On a strength beyond his own: Knows he is neither strong nor wise, Fears to stir a step alone--"

Mr. Roberts often found himself quoting these lines when his wife gavehim glimpses of her heart; and at such times he had no hesitancy indeciding that the steps she took were not alone, but the Lord was withher. 

The postman's ring broke in on their quiet. 

"I hope there are letters from home to-night, " Mrs. Roberts said, "reallong ones. It is a week since we have heard. "

"And I ought to hope that they would require a first reading inprivate, " her husband answered, as he seized his neglected pen. "It isthe only way in which these business letters will get answered. I findthe temptation to talk to you irresistible. "

One letter! but that was of comfortable dimensions and weight. 

"It is from Marion, " Mrs. Roberts said, delight in her voice, after thefirst glance at the familiar writing. She was presently lost in its manypages, and the business of letter-writing went on uninterruptedly forsome time. 

Mrs. Marion Dennis had not forgotten her fondness for her pretty littleFlossy: nor forgotten that, --softly-innocent little creature though shewas, she possessed a wisdom far above those who are credited with havingkeen insight; even a wisdom so subtle, and withal so tender, that itssource could only be Infinite Wisdom. So she, in company with manyothers, was learning to turn to the friend so much younger than herself, as one in whom she could safely confide. 

"Dear little Flossy, " so the letter ran, "I suppose, though you shouldlive to be a white-haired old lady, sitting with placid face and flutedcap and spectacles, in your high-backed arm-chair, in the most treasuredcorner mayhap of some granddaughter's choicest room, I, writing to you, would still commence 'Dear little Flossy. ' That I have to cover it fromprying eyes by the dignified and respectable 'Mrs. Evan Roberts, ' isalmost a matter of amusement to me. I fancy I can see you making ajourney through some of the Chautauqua avenues, picking your waydaintily towards Palestine, bending lovingly over the small white stonesthat mark the village of Bethany, --a pink on your cheek, born, as Ithought, of the excitement of being among those tiny photographs of thewonderful past, but born in part, I now believe, of the fact that Mr. Evan Roberts joined us in our walk. Oh, little mousie, how quiet youwere!

"Well, many things have since transpired. We are old married women, you, and Ruth, and Eurie and I. I suppose the contrast in our lives, --theoutward portion of them, I mean, --is still as strongly marked, perhapsmore so, than it was when we were in Chautauqua together. We were girlsthen; we are matrons now, and with the taking on of that title, Ruth andI took special and great responsibilities. To-night it rains. Mr. Dennishas been called to the upper part of the city, --away out to Springdale, in fact, --to see a sick and dying man, and I am alone and almost lonely. If I could summon any one of the three to my aid and comfort I would. Iam almost as lonely as I was on some of those evenings in the oldboarding-house. Still there are differences; the smoky old stove is not;a summer warmth floats through the house, born of steam; no ill-smellingkerosene lamp offends your aesthetic friend to-night, but the softest ofshaded drop-lights sheds a halo around me. Isn't that almost poetic?Moreover, oh blessed thought! I have no examination papers to prepare, no reports to make up; nothing to do but visit with you. Also, I willadmit just to you, that this is another and most blessed differencebetween this and my lonely past. At almost any moment now I may hopefor Dr. Dennis' ring, and when he comes all sense of loneliness willinstantly depart. Ah! Flossy, dear Flossy, this is such a difference aseven you cannot appreciate! You had your mother and father, and all yourdear home friends, and I had no one; and besides, --here I hesitate, lestyou may be too obtuse to understand the reasoning, --you have only addedMr. Roberts to your circle of treasures. He is grand and good, I know, and I like him without even a mental reservation; but, my dear, I haveadded Dr. Dennis! Can human language say more?

"Nonsense aside, sweet little woman, God has been very good to you andme. Yet, Flossy, do you remember how, during those last months in whichwe were together, I fell into the habit of telling you a great dealabout the thorns, and admitted to you once that they pricked less whenthey had felt your smoothing touch? I want to tell you something. OurGracie--I am so sorry for her, yet I don't know what to do. She isliving a most unhappy life, and of course she shadows our lives also. Itold you, dear, about Prof. Ellis. He is still trying to convince poorGracie, that I, being her step-mother, must be her natural enemy;reminding her that before I came into the family her father was entirelywilling to receive his calls, and allowed her to accept his attentions. Don't you see, it isn't strange at all that the poor little girl shouldbelieve him, and turn from me? She has many judicious helpers in herfather's congregation. There are those who sigh over her almost in myhearing. 'Poor Gracie' they say, 'how changed she is! She used to be sobright and happy. There is something unnatural in these second-motherrelations; all high-spirited children rebel. ' Imagine such talk helpingGracie! Meantime, what do you suppose can be Prof. Ellis' motive? Icannot think that he cares for her; I almost do not believe that thereis enough purity left in him even to admire a pure-hearted young girl;certainly not one with such high ideals and earnest ambitions as Graciehad. 'Why does she admire him?' I fancy I hear you asking. My dear, shedoesn't; she thinks she does, and at seventeen such thoughts sometimeswork irreparable mischief; but left alone, one of these days she wouldmake the discovery that she was flattered by his attentions, because heis nearly fifteen years older than she, and is brilliant in conversation, and quoted as the finest musician in the city. I wish I knew more thingsabout him; what I do know shows me plainly enough the sort of manhe is; but with these guileless young things it seems as though one hadto unmask wickedness very thoroughly before they will believe that itis anything but gossip or misrepresentation. He has gone away for asix weeks' vacation; I don't know where, nor does Dr. Dennis. Gracieknows, but does not enlighten me. Flossy, dear, could you give mea little wholesome advice, do you think? I wonder, sometimes, whetherI was not too complacent over my proposed duties. Such schemed as Ihad! I was going to be the blessedest step-mother that girl ever had. That would not be saying much, possibly. Don't we all incline to thinkthat the second mothers must be wrong, and the sons and daughterspoor abused darlings? But I loved Gracie, you know, and she seemed tolove me, and to be so happy over the thought of our near relationship. There is very little happiness from any such source during these days. Gracie has retired into dignity. She can be the most dignified youngwoman on occasion that I ever beheld. She is not rude to me, on thecontrary she is ceremoniously polite; calls me Mrs. Dennis, and allthat sort of thing, when necessity compels her to call me anything;but she speaks as little as possible; sits at table with us three timesa day, when she cannot secure an excuse for absence that her fatherwill accept; says 'Yes, sir, ' and 'No, sir, ' obediently to him, and 'No, ma'am, thank you, ' to me, and that is the extent of our conversation. Generally her face is pale and her eyes red, and at the first possiblemoment she begs to be excused, and retires to the privacy of her ownroom and locks her door. Her father has stopped her music lessons; atleast she preferred to have them stopped rather than take lessons ofany other person, so she practices no more. She continues her Germanand French, and secures good reports from the professors, but there isan air of weariness and dreariness about everything she does thatmakes one alternate between a feeling of deep pity for her, and adesire to box her ears or shut her up in a corner until she can behaveherself. As a rule, however, I am sorry for her. I was young oncemyself. I was undisciplined, I had no mother, and I had a thousandwild fancies, any one of which might have ruined me. What do you thinkyou would do, dear, if Mr. Roberts had a daughter, and you were hermother? You are all in a flush, now, and have lain down this sheet andsaid aloud: 'What an idea! Marion does say the most absurd things!'Well, then, if you were Marion Dennis, and stood before God in theplace of mother to Grace Dennis, what do you imagine you would do?I'll tell you my policy; I am uniformly cheerful in her presence--gay, if I can make gayety out of anything; not toward her father, youunderstand, because I can fancy that might irritate her. I really tryto be gay toward Gracie herself; but can you imagine an attempt to becheery with a tombstone? I study as much as I can, her tastes, in theordering of dinner and desserts, and arrange the flowers that I knowshe likes best, and in short try to do all those little bits of nicethings that I feel certain you would do in my place; and just here Imay as well own that I learned these small prettinesses, studying you;never should have thought them out for myself. Flossy, Dr. Dennis isone of the most patient and long-suffering of men, but it is very hardfor him to be patient with poor Gracie; harder than it is for me;first, because I know by personal experience just what a turbulentyoung creature a miss of seventeen or eighteen can be, and secondly, because it is upon me her displeasure falls most heavily, and thatnaturally he resents. 

"Why am I writing all this to you? I don't, know, childie, really, savethat I remember what a curious way you have of telling Jesus all aboutyour friends and their trials, and I remember with great comfort thatyou are my friend. Don't imagine me as miserable; I can never be that solong as Christ is the present Helper that he is to me now; and you donot need to be told that I daily thank him for giving me my husband. But I think you will understand better than many would how earnestlyI desire to fill the place of mother, to my bright young motherlessGracie, with her dangerous beauty and her dangerous talents and hercapacity for being miserable. Oh, I want to do more than my duty; Iwant to love her with all my heart, and to have her love me. If it werenot for that man, who always hated me, and who, I believe in my heart, has sought her out and is pressing his attentions upon her because hesees a possibility of stinging me through her, I might hope to fill theplace in her heart that I thought I could. "

The letter closed abruptly at this point, and was finished a few daysafterwards in a different strain, giving plenty of home news, and beingfull of the brightness which always sparkled in Marion's letters; but itwas the first two or three pages to which Mrs. Roberts turned back, andwhich she thoughtfully re-read. Then she interrupted the busy pen:--

"Evan, are not the business letters nearly done? I want to read this toyou, and then I want to talk to you. "

"Delightful prospects, both of them, " he said with energy, as he addedthe last hurried line, signed and delivered to his wife to enclose inits envelope, then pushed aside writing materials and sat back to enjoy. 

"It isn't all delightful, " his wife said, shaking her head. "I did hopethat poor Marion was going to have a few years of rest. Her life hasbeen such a hard one. "

CHAPTER IX. 

"TREMENDOUS FACTS!" HE SAID. 

It is well that Mrs. Marion Dennis felt entirely safe in her friendFlossy's hands, for her affairs were very thoroughly talked over thatevening, and sundry conclusions arrived at. 

One question Mrs. Roberts asked her husband, at the close of theconference, which apparently had nothing to do with Marion Dennis'affairs:--

"Evan, do you know Dr. Everett?"

"Everett? Let me think--yes, I know of him; a young physician, comparatively, who had not been here long, and has made his mark. "

"In what direction?"

"Several, perhaps; but I have heard of him chiefly in the line of hisprofession. He was accidentally called to attend a young lady belongingto a very wealthy family out in Brookline. I say accidentally--that is areverent way we have of speaking, you know; of course, I meanprovidentially. The nursery governess in the family was sick, and thisDr. Everett, who had fallen in with her somewhere, volunteered to cureher. He was calling on her one morning when the sick daughter, who, bythe way, had been given up by her physician, was taken suddenly andalarmingly worse; in the emergency Dr. Everett was summoned, and whilethey waited for the regular physician he succeeded in doing such goodservice that he inspired the mother with confidence; she became anxiousto put the case entirely into his hands, which was done, and the younglady recovered, and Dr. Everett's position, professionally, was assured. Isn't that an interesting little item for you? He is said to have markedsuccess; and, of course, since the Brookline occurrence his practice islargely among the wealthy. How has your attention been called to him?"

"My protector this morning said he was a 'swell' doctor, who wasattending that Calkins boy. I wondered if he did it because he lovedChrist. He might be a helper. I want to call on that sick boy to-morrowif I can arrange it. I think I must take some one with me. "

"You may take me with you, " her husband said, emphatically. 

However much trips through alleys with Nimble Dick might be conducive tothat young man's moral development, Mr. Roberts felt that his wife hadexperimented sufficiently. 

Thus it transpired that, dressed in the plainest, quietest garb whichher wardrobe would furnish, Mrs. Roberts went to the alley the nextmorning accompanied by her husband. 

In one sense it was a mistake that the first call in the alley shouldhave been made on the Calkins family. It was calculated to give Mrs. Roberts mistaken ideas as to the manner in which poor people lived. Abare enough room, certainly, not even a bit of carpet laid before thebed, but it was a clean room. Floor and window and cupboard-door were asclean as water could make them; and the bed, while it looked hopelesslyhard and dreadful to Mrs. Roberts, was really a pattern of neatness andpurity to every dweller in that attic. There was a straw tick, coveredwith a dark calico spread, which did duty as a sheet, and the boy wholay on it was covered by a patched quilt that had been mended, and wasclean. Wonderful things these to say of such a locality! Mr. Robertssuspected it, and Dr. Everett knew it. That gentleman was bending overhis patient when the two guests arrived, and vouchsafed them not even aglance, while the dark-haired, dark-eyed, homely, decently-dressed girlgave Mrs. Roberts a seat on the one chair which the room contained, andset a stool for her husband that had been made of four old chair legsand a square board. 

Sallie Calkins was somewhat flurried by this unexpected call. She had noidea who the people were, nor for what they had come. A vague fear thatthey might be in some way connected with her brother's "place" at theprinting-office, which he was in such fear of losing that his night hadbeen a restless one, made her hasten to say, in a tremulous voice:--

"The doctor thinks he will be well in a little while. It isn't a badbreak, he says, and Mark wants to keep his place. He thinks, maybe, someof the alley boys would keep it for him, if you would be so kind. "

She was evidently addressing Mr. Roberts, but she looked at Flossy. Thefair, sweet face, that gave her such sympathetic glances, seemed the oneto appeal to. Mr. Roberts, however, discerned that he was mistaken forthe employer, and immediately dispelled the idea by asking where the boyworked, and how the accident had happened. 

"It was the elevator, sir, " she said, eagerly. "The chain broke, and itwent down with a bang, and Mark was on it, and he rolled off somehow, he doesn't know how; and he has been that bad that he couldn't tell meif he had. He was kind of wild, sir, all night, and talking about hisplace. "

"Was there no one but you to be with him during the night?" Mrs. Robertsasked. "Where is the mother?"

"We've got no mother, ma'am; there is only Mark and me--and father, "she added, after a doubtful pause. "But father was not at home lastnight. Oh, I didn't need no one to take care of Mark. I wouldn't haveleft him. "

"And he likes to have you take care of him, I am sure. What do you givehim to eat? He will need nourishing food, I think; beef teas and broths, and nice little tempting dishes, made with milk, perhaps. Are you hiscook, too? I wonder if you wouldn't like to have me show you how to makegood things for him? I've learned how to make some nice dishes that sickpeople like. "

Before the bewildered girl could answer, the doctor turned abruptlyfrom his long examination of his patient, and gave the guests the firstattention he had vouchsafed them. The truth was this man had hadsome unfortunate experiences with district visitors, and had perhapsan unreasonable prejudice against them as a class. "I can't help it, ma'am, " he said to Mrs. Saunders, when she was taking him to taskone day. "There are exceptions, of course, at least we will hope thereare; but if you had seen some of my specimens, you would be the firstto wish an infusion of common sense could be introduced among them. As a rule, they offer a tract where they should give a loaf of bread ora bowl of broth; and wedge their advice and reproofs in with everyhelpful movement. It is like so many doses of medicine to the patient;to be endured because he is at their mercy, and can't help himself. Theymean well, the most of them; but the trouble is, we have a way ofmaking district visitors out of people who have nothing to do, and whohave never learned that 'all the nations of the earth were made of oneblood. '"

Something in Mrs. Roberts' tones or words seemed to interest him, andhe turned toward her. 

"Does this alley belong to you?" he asked, abruptly, his mind still fullof the district visitor. 

She regarded him with a puzzled air for a moment, then answerednaďvely:--

"I don't think it does; if it did I would have some things ever sodifferent. "

Dr. Everett laughed; and Mr. Roberts came forward and introducedhimself. 

"My wife has hardly answered you fully, " he said. "I am under theimpression that she desires to adopt a certain portion of this alley; atleast I have heard of little else since last Sabbath afternoon. She isin search of some stray sheep who have been put under her care. "

"Ah, " the doctor said, turning quickly to her, "a Sabbath-schoolteacher? Is this young man one of your scholars?"

"No, " she explained; "but she had heard of him while inquiring whereone of her boys lived, and she had called to see if she could help inany way. Dirk Colson was the boy who, they told her, lived near thisplace. "

The eyes of the trim sister brightened. 

"He lives on the next square, " she said. "Oh, ma'am, are you histeacher, and do you care for him? I'm so glad. "

"He is a favorite of yours, is he?" the doctor asked, looking from onespeaking face to another, and seeming immensely interested in thematter. 

"No, indeed!" the girl said, quickly. "He's horrid! But I'm sorry for hissister; and she wants Dirk to get on, and he never does get on; but Ithought maybe such a kind of a teacher could help him. "

There was such intense and genuine admiration in the girl's voice forthe vision of loveliness before her that Dr. Everett could not helpsmiling. 

"It doesn't seem unlikely, " said he, with significance; and added: "Whois this Dirk Colson, who seems to be an object of interest?"

"He is one of the worst boys in the alley, sir; sometimes I think he isthe very worst, because he is cross as well as hateful; but Mark isalways kind of sorry for him, and says he has such a bad father hecan't help it. And Mart--that's his sister--she is a friend of mine, andshe feels bad about Dirk, but she can't do nothing; he ain't a bit likeMark there. "

The last words were spoken tenderly, and the sisterly eyes turned towardthe boy on the bed, and obeying a sign from his eyes she went over tohim. The doctor plied his questions:--

"Have you recently taken a class, madam? and is their general reputationas encouraging as this special scamp of whom we are hearing?"

His words almost jarred on Mrs. Roberts; she had already prayed enoughfor her boys to have a sort of tender feeling for them--a half desire tocover their faults from the gaze of the indifferent world. Did Dr. Everett represent the indifferent world, or did he love her Master? Shewished she knew. 

"There is nothing encouraging about them, " she said, with graveearnestness, "save the facts that they are made in the image of God, andthat he wants them to 'turn from the power of Satan unto God, that theymay receive forgiveness of sins, and an inheritance among them which aresanctified. '"

A rare flash of intelligence and appreciation greeted her now from thosefine eyes bent so scrutinizingly on her. 

"Tremendous facts!" he said. "Glorious possibilities! 'Himself hath saidit. ' I claim kinship with you; I am an heir of the same inheritance. "

He held a hand to each, and they were cordially grasped. Then Dr. Everett proceeded to business. 

"There is enough to do, " he said; "everything is lacking here; there issevere poverty, united to the most scrupulous tenderness and the mosttender love on the part of this brother and sister. I stumbled on thecase, and will do professionally all that is needed. And I have a friendwho would undoubtedly come to the rescue, but she is crowded just now. Ishall be rejoiced to report to her a helper. Do you know Joy Saunders?Well, I wish you did; she is one whom you could appreciate. She isyoung, though, and without a husband to guard her, and there are someplaces to which she cannot come. "

"Has she learned that important fact?" asked Mr. Roberts, with asignificant smile. Then some explanation seemed necessary. "This lady, "he said, "tried the alley alone yesterday, and lost her way, and wentlower down, --quite near to Burk Street, I imagine. "

"And what happened?" The quick question and the doctor's tone suggestedpossibilities not pleasant. 

"Oh, she met one of her new recruits, --as hard a boy, so one of thepolicemen on this beat tells me, as there is in the row, --and pressedhim into service to escort her back to civilization; and strange to say, the fellow did it without placing any tricks. "

The doctor turned on the small lady a curious glance. 

"I think you may be able to do something, even for Dirk Colson, " hesaid. 

"Do you know him?"

He laughed over the eagerness of the question. 

"Never heard of him before. I was only thinking of our friend'sdescription of his awfulness. Ah, whom have we here?"

For the door had opened abruptly, and a pair of great blue eyes, set ina frame of tawny hair, all in a frizzle, had peered in on them. Thevision was clothed in garments so torn the wonder was that they stayedon at all, and there was a general look of abject poverty about her towhich Sallie Calkins, with all the bareness of her lot, was a stranger. She stood for just a moment, as if transfixed by astonishment at theunwonted sight in the room, then turned and sped away as swiftly andsilently as she had come. 

"That is Dirk's sister, " Sallie Calkins said, coming forward, her homelyface aglow with shame. "She isn't a bad girl, ma'am, she doesn't mean tobe, but she has a dreadful time. Her mother is sickly, and has to go outwashing, times when she isn't able to sit up; and there'll be days whenshe can't hold up her head; and the father is bad, ma'am, and drinks, and swears, and sells things for drink till there ain't nothing left tosell; and Mart hasn't anything to mend her clothes with, and she doesn'tknow how, anyway; and she hasn't even got a comb to comb her hairwith, her father he took it to sell; and everything there is horrid, andDirk, he's awful. "

It was strange, she could not herself account for it; but with everyadded word of misery that set poor Dirk Colson lower and lower in thescale of humanity, there seemed to come into this woman's heart, andshine in her face, an assurance that he was to be a "chosen vessel untoGod. "

The doctor was watching her again, curious, apparently, to see how thispitiful appeal for forbearance in judging of poor Mart affected her, andsomething in his face made her say, speaking low, "an inheritance amongthem which are sanctified. "

"Amen!" he said. And there came to Mrs. Roberts a feeling that thisearnest prayer, for the second time repeated by two men who prayed, was a sort of seal from the Master. 

She turned away from both gentlemen then; the tears were very near thesurface. She must do something to tone down the beating of her heart. Sallie was at hand, and she went with her to another corner of the room, and a low-toned conversation was carried on, scraps of which floatedback to the gentlemen in the form of "sheets, " "grape jelly, " "muttonbroth, " "a soft pillow, " and the like. 

"I feel my patient growing better, " the doctor said, with satisfaction. 

"Is there no father here?" Mr. Roberts asked. 

The doctor shook his head, but answered:--

"There is the most pitiful apology for a father that I ever saw, --a merewreck of a man! Spends his time in a sort of weak drinking, if I maycoin a phrase to describe him; he actually uses no energy even in thatbusiness. Just staggers around and bemoans his lot; a most unfortunateman, in his own estimation, with whom the world, through no fault ofhis, has gone wrong. He is never downright intoxicated, and never freefrom the effects of liquor. He is much like a wilted leaf in the handsof this boy and girl. They could pitch him out of the window withoutmuch difficulty, and if the fall did not kill him he would shed tearsand say it was a hard world. But now, what do we see, when the name offather is so dishonored, --made a wreck, as it were? Why, the order ofnature is reversed, and these children take on the protective. They arefather and mother, and he is the weak, sinning child. The way that thatboy and girl have worked to keep their miserable father from starving orfreezing is something to astonish the very angels. They shield him, too;nobody who wants to reach their hearts must blame him. They are astudy!--as different from the other inhabitants of the alley as the skyis different from that mud-hole down there. It isn't a good simile, either. There is no religion in their efforts. They are the veriestheathen. "

"How do you account for the development?"

The doctor shook his head:--

"I don't account for it; it is abnormal. There must have been a motherwho left her impress. I can't learn anything about the mother--she diedwhen the girl was an infant; but I would like to know her history. Iventure to assert that she belonged to Christ, and that a gleam of thedivine pity that she saw in him, and loved, left its impress on herchildren. That is somewhat mystical, " he added, smiling. "I rarely talkin this way; it must have been your wife who set me off. "

"But she is the most practical and energetic of beings!"

"Ay, so are the angels, I fancy; and make us think of heaven directly wehear the rustle of their wings. Has your wife been a Christian long?"

"Barely two years since she began to think of these things. "

"I thought as much. She impresses me as one who is being led; who doesnot choose to go alone; has not learned how, indeed. A very fewChristians never learn how, and with them the Lord does his specialwork. Well, sir; I must go. I'm glad to have met you, and glad to leaveyou here. Good morning!"

CHAPTER X. 

"AND SHE ALWAYS TRIED. "

Other business was transacted that morning which brought results. Acurious habit of Mrs. Roberts', --one which, perhaps, most stronglymarked the difference between her ways of working and those of otherpeople, --was that of appealing to the person at hand for information onany subject which chanced to be the one prominent in her mind at thetime. 

Where other and more systematic persons would have said, "He is not theone to ask about this matter! there is no reason for supposing that hehas any knowledge in this direction!" Mrs. Roberts would say: "I cannotbe sure that he may not be able to give just the information which Ineed. In any case, what harm will it do to try?" And she always tried. 

It was on this principle that she arrested Dr. Everett's speedydeparture with a question:--

"Dr. Everett, are you familiar with boarding-houses for young men?"

Something like a vision swept instantly before the doctor, in which hesaw the long line of young men, and the long line of boarding-houses, in the world, and he laughed with eyes and lips, the question seemedso queerly put. 

"With how many of them, madam?" There was amusement in his voice, but there was also curiosity, --he wanted to know what this original littlelady was in search of. 

"One would do, if it were of just the right stamp. I'll tell you what Iwant, --a nice, quiet, comfortable _home_ sort of place, with a smallroom, capable of being warmed, a single bedstead, with a passablygood bed, and a moderate rate of board. Are not those modest enoughrequirements?"

"Not at all! They are preposterous! A boarding-house to which one couldconveniently apply the word '_home!_' _Fire_ in a young man's room!He is expected to enjoy freezing in a city; and if he come from thecountry, he should be grateful for the privilege! But the idea ofcalling for a good bed! That is the wildest suggestion of all! Has sheever boarded, Mr. Roberts?"

"Not at a boarding-house, at least, " said that gentleman, enjoying thefun. 

But Mrs. Roberts looked grave. 

"Are you serious?" she asked, gently. "Is there no chance in this greatcity for a Christian young man to have the ordinary comforts of commonlife; just a little quiet room where he can pray, and where he caninvite some tempted soul, and try to help him? Doesn't it seem allwrong?"

The laugh was gone from the doctor's face. There was a look of keeninterest and genuine respect. 

"How many young men are you thinking about? There are many Christians, I believe, among that class, --poor young men, away from home, --and Ihave reason to fear that their chances for comfortable retirement arevery scarce. I have thought about the problem somewhat how to helpthem. In the concrete, I don't see the way. Of how many are youthinking?"

"I am willing to think about them all, " Mrs. Roberts said, --and now itwas her turn to laugh, --"but I am panning for just one. I cannot workin great ways, but I thought I might help one. "

"Exactly! Mr. Roberts, if every Christian in our city would undertake tohelp _one_, the problem would be solved. Well, there is oneboarding-house to which the word 'home' may properly be applied; andthere is one small room on the third floor vacated yesterday. I wonderif the Master wants it for your young man? It seems to me if there isany one thing more than another that we need in that house just now itis a Christian young man. Of what type is your friend? Will he help orhinder a gay young scamp much sought after by Satan?"

"He will try hard to help, " said both Mr. And Mrs. Roberts. And beforethey parted the doctor had taken Mr. Ried's address, and promised tocall on him and negotiate the matter. 

"That plan will work in two ways, " said Mrs. Roberts, gleefully. "Mr. Ried will be in the same home with, and somewhat under the influenceof that grand doctor. Isn't it splendid that we asked just him?"

And her husband smilingly assented, and added that he should not havethought of such a thing as asking him. 

On her way down town, Mrs. Roberts had dropped a letter in the mail, which also brought results. It read thus:--

"DEAR MARION, --I have time for but a line, for I want to catch themorning mail. I have such a nice plan. Suppose you let your Gracie comeand stay with me for a few weeks. You know she always liked me a little, and Evan and I think we can make it pleasant for her. I will try to gether so much interested in seven boys whom I know that she will forgetall about Professor Ellis. Mr. Barnwell a confidential clerk in thestore (old and gray-headed), will go to-morrow to transact some businesswith papa. Evan will give him a letter of introduction to Dr. Dennis. Heexpects to return on Saturday, and if you will trust Gracie to us, andshe is willing to come, she might travel in Mr. Barnwell's care, and wewould meet her at the depot. Dear Marion, we should like it ever somuch: and I have prayed about it all the morning, and cannot helpthinking that Jesus likes it too. "

Thus it came to pass that when Mrs. Roberts took her seat on the nextSabbath afternoon before her seven boys at the South End Mission, avision of loveliness, such as the mission had not often seen, came inwith her, and looked with wide-open eyes on all the new and strangesights and sounds about her. A very pretty creature was Gracie Dennis. Her eyes had lost none of their brightness, although they had shed sometears during her recent experiences. They were fairly sparkling to-day, for the great city into which she had come for the first time was likefairyland to her; albeit, she had passed through scenes that afternoonwhich bore no resemblance to her idea of fairyland. What the boysthought of her could only be determined from their stares. Let us hopethat her presence had nothing to do with their conduct, for never, inall the annals of the South End Mission, had seven boys comportedthemselves as did those before whom Mrs. Roberts sat that winterafternoon. 

Nimble Dick, as if to be revenged for his unintentional courtesy of theMonday before, placed his ill-kept feet on the seat in front of him, inalarming proximity to Mrs. Roberts' shoulders, and chewed his tobacco, and defiled the floor with its juice, and talked aloud, and was in everysense disgusting. Neither was Dirk Colson one whit behind him. Thespirit of entertainment was upon him. He mimicked Mr. Durant's somewhathoarse tones, exaggerating the imitation, of course, until it wasludicrous. He imitated the somewhat shrill tenor, and the nasal tones ofDeacon Carter, who was doing good work with a class of meek-lookingwomen. He even imitated Mrs. Roberts' soft, low voice, as she essayed tointerest them in Moses and some of the wonders which he performed. 

Vain hope! Struggle as she might to be intensely dramatic in hernarrative, she did not for a moment gain the ascendency. 

"Moses?" interrupted Nimble Dick in the very midst of one of her mostearnest sentences. "Let's see! that was the old fellow who swallowed theserpents, wasn't it? I should have thought he would have been used up. "

"You don't know nothin', " interrupted Stephen Crowley, with a nudge atDirk that the latter pretended tipped him entirely off the seat, andleft him a limp heap at Mrs. Robert' feet. 

"He don't know nothin'!" repeated Stephen, addressing Mrs. Roberts ina confidential tone. "'T was the serpents swallowed Moses, wasn't it?Question is, How did he get around again?"

"Quit that!" came at this point from Dirk Colson, in his fiercest tone. "Look here, you Bill Snyder, if you try pinching on me again I'll pitchyou over the head of old Durant in less than a second!"

What was the poor, pale little woman to do? With one boy crawling aboutthe floor and two others in a hand-to-hand fight, with the rest in agiggle, of what use to try to talk to them about Moses? You should haveseen Gracie Dennis eyes by that time! Horror and disgust were aboutequally expressed, and rising above them both, a look of actual fear. Mr. Durant came over to attempt a rescue, his face distressed beyondmeasure. 

"Mrs. Roberts, this is too much. I am sure that patience has ceased tobe a virtue. They have never gone so far before. I suspected mischiefto-day. I have heard from several of them during the week, and neveranything but evil. I am prepared for it; there is a full police force onguard in the next room; what I propose is to have every one of thesefellows taken to the lock-up. It will be a lesson that they richlydeserve, and may do them good. "

Whispering was not one of Mr. Durant's strong points. He meant to conveysecret intelligence of carefully-laid plans to Mrs. Roberts alone. Inreality not a boy in the class but heard every word. They were startledinto silence. "A full police force!" They were not fonder of the lock-upthan are most boys who deserve that punishment. They were skilful inescaping the hands of policemen. They had not believed that the SouthEnd Mission would resort to any such means. They recognized in theMission an attempt to do them good; and, without any effort at reasoningit out, they had by tacit consent decided that policemen and lock-upsand Christian effort did not match. They had chuckled much over thestationing of "little Duffer" at the door on guard. Any two of thestrong young fellows were a match for him, and in the event of a riot, which they would like no better fun than to help get up, how many choicespirits all about the room would join them if given the word, and in thedelightful confusion which would result how easy to escape from sightand hearing while Policeman Duffer was summoning aid! They had feltcomparatively safe. But "a full police force" detailed for duty wasquite another thing. They felt caught in a trap. Nimble Dick got up inhaste from the floor and took his seat, and the boys looked from one toanother with ominous frowns. There were reasons why none of them caredto come before the police court just now. What was to be done?

While they waited and considered, Mrs. Roberts did it. Her hand was onMr. Durant's arm, and directly the loud whispering ceased, she spoke inlow, but distinctly emphatic tones:--

"I beg of you, Mr. Durant, do no such thing. I would dismiss everypoliceman at once, with thanks, if I were you. We shall not need theirhelp. I give you my word of honor that the boys will be quiet during therest of the session, not because they are afraid of policemen, butbecause they respect me, and do not want to see me frightened orannoyed. Please don't let a policeman come near us. "

I am not sure which was the more astonished, the superintendent or theboys. He returned to his desk with the bewildered air of one whosedeep-laid schemes had come to naught in an unexpected manner withoutgiving him time to rally; and the boys looked at one another inperplexity, and were silent. 

Mrs. Roberts turned to them with quiet voice:--

"Boys, " she said, "you have spoiled the story that I was going to tellyou. I have lost my place, and there isn't time to go back and find it. I am sorry, for I think you would have liked the story. I spent a gooddeal of time this week trying to make it interesting. But never mindnow, there is something else I want to say. Will you spend the hoursfrom eight to ten with me to-morrow evening at my house? I broughtcards with me for each of you, containing my address, that you mighthave no trouble in finding the place. "

Whereupon she produced the delicate bits of pasteboard, with her nameand address handsomely engraved thereon. 

Nimble Dick took his between his soiled thumb and finger, turned it overin a pretence of great interest, and finally endeavored to "sight" itwith his eye, as a workman does his board. 

"What'll you do with us if we come?" Stephen Crowley asked, fixing whatwas intended as a wise look upon her, the leer in his eye hinting thathe was smart enough to see another trap, and meant not to fall into it. 

Mrs. Roberts laughed pleasantly. 

"It is an unusual question, when one invites company, " she said; "but Idon't mind answering it. For one thing I thought we would have an oysterstew and some good coffee together. Then, if any of you like music, Ihave a friend with me who is a good singer; and I have a few pictures Ishould like you to see, if you cared to; and--I don't know whether youare fond of flowers, but some of you may have a mother, or sister athome who is, and the greenhouse is all aglow just now. Oh, how can Itell what I should do to entertain guests? Just what seemed to me to bepleasant at the time. That is the way I generally do. May I expect you?"

The boys stared. This was a new departure, indeed! How much of it didshe mean? What was she trying to do? Was it a trap? Still she hadrescued them from the police force, and they had not expected that, forevery boy of them knew that he had treated her shamefully. TimothyHaskell was generally the quietest one of the group, and perhaps themost straightforward. He went directly to the point of the question thathe saw in the eyes of the others. 

"What do you do it for?"

"Yes, that's the talk, " said Nimble Dick. "What do you want of us?"

"Why, I want you to spend the evening with me. Didn't I tell you? If youreally mean to be friends with me of course I must invite you to myhome. What _could_ I want except to have a nice time? I'm trying tomake you like me. Of course I want you to like me. How can we havepleasant times together unless you do?"

CHAPTER XI. 

"I HAVE BUT TO TRY AGAIN"

"Pleasant times like we've been having to-day?" said Nimble Dick, with awicked leer. 

If he meant to disconcert her, he missed his point. 

"No!" she said, promptly, "we haven't had a bit nice times to-day, andas for liking you, I haven't done so to-day at all. If I had the leastidea that you meant often to treat me as you have this afternoon Ishould know it was of no use. But I cannot think that you will continueto treat a lady in such a manner, particularly when I am really tryingto make a pleasant time for you. There is no object, you see, inspoiling it. "

This plain bit of truth, for the time being so commended itself to thejudgment of the boys that they regarded the speaker gravely, withoutattempting a reply. She was not moralizing; at least it was unlike anymoralizing that they had ever heard. It seemed to be simply a bit ofpractical common sense. Not a boy would have owned it, but each felt, just at that moment, a faint hope that she would _not_ decide itwas of no use, and give them up. Straightforward Tim Haskell had onemore question to ask:--

"Why didn't you let them bring in their police and settle us?"

Their teacher hesitated just a moment. Would the "whole truth" do tospeak in this case? Could she hope to make them understand that she sawin it a step lower down, and that thus degraded before her eyes, shefeared her possible hold on them would be gone forever? No; it wouldn'tdo! A little, a _very_ little piece of the truth was all that shecould treat them to. A faint sparkle in her bright eyes, which every oneof them saw, and she said:--

"I was afraid you might not be excused in time to keep your engagementwith me to-morrow evening. "

They all laughed, not boisterously, actually an appreciative laugh. Theywere bright; there is hardly a street boy living by his wits who isn't. They recognized the humor hidden in the answer, and enjoyed it. 

Then the superintendent's bell rang. That bell always did seem to havean evil influence on those boys. Indeed, Mrs. Roberts was known toremark, a few Sundays afterwards, that if there _were_ no openingand closing exercises in the Sabbath-school, her work would be easier;that street boys did not seem to have one element of devotion in them, and needed to be kept at high pressure, in order to be able to controlthemselves. 

The thought is worthy of study, perhaps. It is just possible that ouropening and closing exercises are too long drawn out even for those whoare not street boys. 

Be that as it may, the little spell which Mrs. Roberts had been able fora few minutes to weave around her boys on this particular Sabbath, wasbroken by the sound of the bell. The boys returned to their memories ofinsult, as they regarded the police force. They muttered sullenly amongthemselves about "traps" and "sells, " and "guessed they wouldn't getcaught here again;" and Mrs. Roberts, seeming not to hear, heard with aheavy heart. 

How angry they looked! Even Nimble Dick's usually merry face was cloudedover. What a curious thing it was that even they had their ideas ofpropriety, and felt themselves insulted! Was it an instinct, shewondered--a reminder that there was in them material for manhood?

Would they ever, any of them, be men--Christian gentlemen? It seemedalmost too great a stretch for even her imagination. As she moved in herseat her delicately-embroidered, perfumed handkerchief fell to thefloor. Mrs. Roberts was used to young men--mere boys, even--whoseinstinctive movement would be to instantly restore it to her. Not a boybefore her thought of such a thing. She had not expected it, of course. Yet she wondered if the instinct were not dormant, needing but thesuggestion. It was a queer little notion, worthy of Flossy Shipleyherself, who, from being continually busy about little things, had cometo the conclusion that nothing anywhere was little; that the so-calledtrifles, which make up many lives, had much to do with the happiness ofother lives. Was it worth her while to try to teach these street Arabsto pick up fallen handkerchiefs? She differed from many Christianworkers, in that, in her simplicity, she really thought it was. 

There was a lull just at that moment. A hymn had been announced, butthe organist's note-book had been mislaid, and was being sought after. It could disturb no one if Mrs. Roberts tried her little experiment. Shelooked longingly at Dirk Colson, but his brows were black and his eyesfierce; this was no time to reach him. Nimble Dick looked much moreapproachable. She determined to venture him:--

"Mr. Bolton, " spoken in her sweetest voice, "I have dropped myhandkerchief. "

"Anybody with half an eye could see that, mum; and a mighty dirty spotyou picked out for such a nice little rag to lie in. "

This was her only response. Then the discomfited experimenter toldherself that she was a blunderer. How could the poor fellow be expectedto know what she meant? Why had she not _asked_ the service fromhim? She would try again. 

Would he be kind enough to pick it up for her? It was long afterwardsbefore Mrs. Roberts could think of his answer without a sinking heart. Fixing bold, saucy eyes on her, he spoke in deliberate tones, loudenough to be heard half-way across the room:--

"Why, pick it up yourself, mum! It is as near to you as it is to me, andyou don't look weakly. "

She picked it up, her poor cheeks burning, but she did not forget it. 

Various after-school conferences told their different stories. 

"Well!" Mr. Durant said, stopping in the act of mopping his hot foreheadto shake hands with her, "Mrs. Roberts, I honor your courage. Those boyswere simply fearful to-day; I really feared some outbreak that would behard to quell. I'm afraid we shall have to give them up. Yes, I know howyou feel: but you haven't been here to see what we have borne from them. All sorts of teachers have been tried. We have given them the bestmaterial we had, both men and women, and every one has failed. Thenyou actually want to try it for another Sabbath! Well, I'm glad of it. Oh, _I_ don't want to give them up; it makes my heart ache to think ofit; but if we can't keep them in sufficient order to get any benefit, nor find a teacher who is willing to hold on to them, what else is therefor us to do? But that last complaint I needn't make so long as you'hold on, ' need I?" This last with a genial smile. "Well, God bless you;I couldn't begin to tell you how much I hope you will succeed. "

But his face said: "However, I know you won't. "

He turned from her and said as much to young Ried:--

"She is in earnest, Ried, and she has resources; but she won't catchthem, simply because they don't mean to be caught; they come here tomake trouble and for nothing else. Just look at the way they haveperformed to-day--worse than ever, and they never had a better teacher. I've watched her, and I believe she knows how. I'll tell you what itis, Ried, we must hold on to her, and when she gives up those boys wemust secure her for that class of girls down by the door. I really thinkwe have a prize. "

Now, if he had but known it, Mrs. Evan Roberts meant to teach no otherclass at the South End Mission save those boys. 

"Flossy Shipley!" This was Gracie Dennis' exclamation; when she was verymuch excited, she went back to the old name. "What _are_ you tryingto do with those horrid boys? and how can you endure their impudence? Inever saw anything like their actions in my life, and I thought I hadseen bad boys. You look completely worn out, and no wonder. I shouldn'tthink Mr. Roberts would let you do this. What good can you do suchcreatures, Flossy?"

"My dear Gracie, don't you think that Jesus Christ died to save them?"

"Well!" said Gracie, hesitatingly. It was a favorite phrase with her, asit is with many people when they don't know what to say next. 

"And don't you think he wants them saved? And will he not be pleasedwith even my little bits of efforts if he knows that my sincere desireis to save these souls for his glory?"

"But what I mean is, what good can you do them so long as they act asthey do now? They didn't listen to a word you said, so as to get anygood out of it. "

"I don't know that, dear, nor do you. Don't you think the Holy Spiritsometimes presses words on people that they do not seem to be heeding?In any event, that is a part with which I have nothing to do. I tried;and if I failed utterly I have but to try again. It isn't as thoughthere were some good teacher ready to take them. Nobody will make asecond effort. Now there is one thing I can certainly do. I can keep onmaking efforts; who knows but some of them may bear fruit? By the way, Gracie, I want ever so much of your help. "

"Mine?"' said Gracie, with wide-open eyes. "I don't know how to helppeople; I'm not good. " And her face darkened in a frown, --someunpleasant memories that went far toward proving the truth of thatstatement coming to mind just then. After a moment she spoke in asomewhat more gentle tone: "Don't count on me, Flossy, for help aboutthose boys. They frighten me; I never saw such fellows. I couldn't helpwondering what--papa would have said to them. "

Between the "wondering" and the noun there had been an observable pause. Mrs. Roberts suspected that the thought in Gracie's mind was rather whatMrs. Dennis, who was supposed to have much knowledge of boys, wouldhave thought of them. But since her arrival Gracie had studiously avoidedany reference to her stepmother, and Mrs. Roberts had humored her folly. 

"Never mind, you can help them; and when you begin to realize that, youwill forget your fears. "

"Do you expect to see one of the creatures to-morrow evening? What inthe world would you do with them if they did come?"

"I'm not sure that I _expect_ them. I only hope for them. As to what todo with them, I trust to you to help answer that question. I want togive them an idea of what a nice time is. "

"I cannot help, " said Gracie again, but she was _interested_, andreferred again and again to the subject, cross-questioning Mrs. Robertsas to her plans and hopes, until that lady gave a satisfied smile to thethought that her seven boys had begun their work. 

The first part of this conversation was held while they waited in one ofthe class-rooms for Mr. Ried to give in his report before joining them. The waiting suggested to Gracie another question. 

"Who is this Mr. Ried, who seems to have us in charge?"

"He is one of the clerks from the store, which accounts, in part, forhis attendance on us. But I am interested in him for other reasons. Hehad a wonderful sister; that is, she was a wonderful Christian; she diedwhen quite young, but one might be ready to go to heaven early ifone had accomplished as much as she did. By one of those strangearrangements, which I should think would go far toward making observingpeople believe in a special Providence, her life, or I might almost sayher death, was the means of changing the current of my husband's life. He says he was a gay young fellow; a member of the church, but givingjust as little attention to religion as many do whom you and I know. Anaccident to one of his family held him for several weeks in the townwhere this Ester Ried lived; and her physician, with whom he becameacquainted, introduced him to her. It seems she was very much interestedin young men, in their Christian development. He went to see her severaltimes; and, to use his own expression, she first made him realize thatthere was such a thing as zeal, and then she set it on fire. What shehad begun in life she finished in her death. Evan attended her funeralservices, and the walls were hung with Bible texts of her selection. Themost wonderful texts! All about Christian work, and about being inearnest, because the time was short. Evan says he began to understand, then, that the service of Christ was first, best, and always. 

"Wasn't it a singular Providence that led him under the influence ofthat young girl during the closing weeks of her life? Only think, he hasbeen doing her work ever since, --doing it, possibly, in ways that shecould not compass. That is one reason why I am so much interested inthose boys. It seems to me as though they were her boys. Did I tell youthat her heart went out especially after the neglected? I learned aboutthe boys through Mr. Ried. He was but a child when his sister died, andyet she succeeded in so enthusing him with her ideas that he is all thetime trying to carry out her plans. She had some wonderful ones. Thisidea of inviting the boys, socially, I had from her. Do you see howplainly she is working yet, though she has been in heaven so long?"

"Do you think, " asked Gracie Dennis, a timid, gentle sound to her voice, "that all Christians ought to put religion 'first, best, and always, ' asyour husband said? I fancied that some were set apart to do a specialwork. "

"We are all set apart, dear, don't you think? Given to Him to use asHe will. The trouble is that so many of us take back the gifts, and useour time and our tongues as though they were our own. "

"Our _tongues_!" repeated Gracie, amazement in her voice. 

"Why, yes; didn't you give Him your tongue when you gave Him yourself?And yet you are fortunate if you have not dishonored Him with it many atime. "

Said Gracie, "What a queer way you have of putting things. "

Then came Alfred Ried in haste, and apologizing for the long delay. Gracie Dennis, watched him curiously; listened critically to his words. Was it to be supposed that this young man put religion "first, best, and always"; and considered his tongue as given to the Lord? Alfred borethe scrutiny well. He took very little notice of Miss Gracie, beingentirely absorbed with another matter. He had settled opinions aboutMrs. Roberts now, from which he would not be likely to waver. He hadseen much of her during the week, and he knew she had not been idle. Shehad given him much valuable information concerning the boys in whom hehad been interested all winter; and whom she had known for a week. Alsohe was aware that Sally and Mark Calkins had seen much of her, to theirgreat benefit. She had made him her messenger on one occasion, and hehad seen Sally Calkins take from the basket the clean, sweet-smellingsheets that were to freshen her brother's bed, and bestow on themrapturous kisses, while she murmured, "I'd walk on my knees in broaddaylight through the gutter to serve her, --that I would. "

"Sheets aren't much, I suppose, " moralized the young man, as he walkedthoughtfully homeward. "People with much less money than she has musthave furnished them. It is thinking about things that makes thedifference between her and others. "

But he had not quite found the secret. The main difference between herand many other people lay in the fact that she set steadily about doingthe things she thought of that would be nice to do. 

On the whole, young Ried was fully prepared to sympathize with Mr. Durant's opinion, that the South End Mission had secured a prize. Notthat he was very hopeful over those boys. He felt that their conduct, under the circumstances, showed a depth of depravity which was beyondthe reach of Mission schools; but it was a comfort to think that goodthings were arranged for them if they had but chosen to receive. Hebegan at once to talk about them. 

"Mrs. Roberts, they are worse than I had supposed. I am afraid that yourpatience is exhausted. "

Her answer was peculiar. 

"Mr. Ried, I want you to spend to-morrow evening with me. I have invitedmy boys, and I depend on you and Gracie here to help entertain them. "

"Are you equal to such formidable work as that?" asked Gracie, with amischievous smile. 

He did not respond to the smile; he was looking at Mrs. Roberts, studying her face as one bewildered with the rapidity of her moves. 

"I want to be, " he said, with feeling; "I want to know how to work, andI'm learning. Mrs. Roberts, I moved to my new boarding-house lastevening, and my room is a perfect little gem. There is an illuminatedtext in it, and all around it is twined an ivy, growing, --don't youthink! Hidden, you know, behind the frame in a bottle; and the text isone of my sister's treasures. Isn't that a singular coincidence?"

"It is very nice, " said Mrs. Roberts, with satisfied eyes. She stillmade much use of that little word. 

"And, Mrs. Roberts, I asked one of your boys to come in this eveningand see my room. "

CHAPTER XII. 

"I WANT THEM TO GET USED TO PARLORS. "

"Those two people can think and talk of nothing but those dreadful boys, "said Gracie to herself, half annoyed and wholly interested. She foundherself that very evening turning over the music, with the wonderment inher mind as to what she could sing that they would be likely to carefor, provided one of them appeared, which thing she did not expect. 

But I have not told you of all the discussions had that day. The boyswent their various ways, their minds also busy with the events of theafternoon. Dirk Colson and Stephen Crowley went off together; not thatthey were special friends, but their homes lay near together. For thedistance of half a block they walked in silence; then Stephen Crowleyspoke his mind:--

"Nimble Dick wasn't near as smart to-day as he thinks he was, accordin'to my way of thinkin'. "

"He was meaner than dirt!" burst forth Dirk, fiercely. "To go back onher like that, after she had saved us from a row with the police, ain'twhat I believe in. Why couldn't he have picked up the rag, seeing shewanted him to? That's what _I_ say. I'd a done it myself if she hadgive me the chance. "

"That there Dick Bolton can be too mean for anything when he sets out, "said Stephen, with a grave air of superiority. "I don't go in foranything of that kind myself. We wasn't none of us much to boast of; butDick, he went too fur. I say, Dirk, what do you s'pose all that yarnmeans about to-morrow night? And what be we goin' to do about it? Dick, he said it was all a game to get hold of us somehow, and he wasn't goin'to have nothin' to do with it. "

Had Stephen Crowley desired exceedingly to secure Dirk's vote in favorto the proposed entertainment he could not, at that moment, have chosena better way. Dirk tossed his thick mat of black hair in a defiantfashion and answered:--

"He needn't have a thing to do with it, so far as I care. I don't knowwho'll miss him; but if he thinks he's got all the fellows under histhumb, and they're goin' to do as he says, I'll show him a thing or two. _I'm_ a goin' to-morrow night. I don't care what it is, nor what itis for. She was nice and friendly to us to-day, and I'm willin' to trusther to-morrow. I shall go up there and see what she does want. It can'tkill a fellow to do that much. "

"Then I'm a goin', too, " declared Stephen, with decision. "Dick, hethinks there won't none of us go if he don't; and I'd just like to showhim that he must get up early in the mornin' if he wants to keep trackof us. "

If Dirk Colson needed anything to strengthen his resolution, there wasmaterial in that last sentence which supplied it. He had long chafedunder the control of Dick Bolton; here was a chance to assertsuperiority. He even, just at that moment, conceived the brilliant ideaof supplanting Dick--running an opposition party, as it were. 

What if he should get every fellow in the class to promise to go, andDick, the acknowledged leader, should find himself left out alone in thecold. The thought actually made his grim face break into a smile. Thusit came to pass that the most efficient worker for the success of theMonday evening entertainment, so far at least as securing the presenceof the guests, was Dirk Colson. 

In Mr. Roberts' mansion preparations for receiving and entertaining thehoped-for guests went briskly forward. Preparations which astonishedthe young guest already arrived. 

"Are you really going to let them come in here?" she asked, as shefollowed Mrs. Roberts through the elegant parlors, and watched herputting delicate touches here and there. 

"Certainly; why not? Don't you open your parlors when you receive yourfriends?"

"I don't think we have such peculiar friends on our list, " Gracie said, with a little laugh; and then, "Flossy, they will spoil your furniture. "

"If one evening in the Master's service will spoil anything it surelyought to be spoiled, " Mrs. Roberts answered, serenely. 

"But, Flossy, "--with a touch of impatience in her voice, --"what is theuse? Wouldn't the dining-room answer every purpose; be to them the mostelegant room they ever beheld, and be less likely to suffer from theircontact?"

The busy little mistress of all the beauty around her turned to herguest with a peculiar smile on her face, half mischievous and whollysweet, as she said:--

"I want them to get used to parlors, my dear; they may have much to dowith them, as well as with dining-rooms. "

"They are more likely to have to do with penitentiaries and prisons, "Gracie said; but she abandoned discussion, and gave herself to thepleasure of arranging lonely flowers in their lovely vases. 

There was a divided house as to the probability of the guestsappearing, --Mr. Roberts inclining to the belief that some of them wouldcome, while Gracie was entirely skeptical. Mrs. Roberts kept her owncounsel, neither expressing wish nor fear, but steadily pushing herpreparations. 

As a matter of fact, the entire seven appeared together, promptly, asthe clock struck eight. 

At the last moment Dick Bolton, the usual leader, finding himself in aminority of one, not to be outwitted, protested that he had not theleast notion of staying away; of course he was going, and good-naturedlyjoined the group. 

I wonder if you have the least conception of how those boys looked? Theideas of some people cannot get below nicely-patched clothes, carefullybrushed boots, clean collars, and neatly arranged hair. 

Clean collars! Not a boy of them owned a collar. No thought of brushingtheir worn-out, unmended boots ever entered their minds. Their clotheswere much patched, but in many places needed it still. 

Stephen Crowley had made a somewhat unsuccessful attempt to put his massof hair in order. Most of the others had not thought even of that. Whyshould they? Poor Dirk, you will remember, if he had thought of it, hadno comb with which to experiment. It is doubtful if many of the otherswere any better off in this respect. 

Imagine the seven standing, a confused, grinning, heap, in the centre ofMrs. Roberts' large and brilliantly-lighted hall!

She came forward to welcome them, shaking hands, though they made noattempt to offer a hand in greeting. She had to grasp after each. Sheessayed to introduce Gracie; not one of them attempted a bow. 

"Come this way, " Mrs. Roberts said, "and take seats. " Then she led theway into the long, bright, elegantly-furnished, flower-decked room. 

They followed her in a row. Midway in the room they made a halt. Theycaught a view of themselves--full length at that--revealed by the greatmirrors. They had never seen themselves set in contrast before. Theycould not sit in a row, for the easy chairs and sofas, though plentiful, had the air of having been just vacated by people who had left themcarelessly just where they had chanced to sit. 

It required diplomacy to seat those boys. When at last Stephen Crowleydropped into one of the great pillowy chairs, he instantly sprang upagain, and looked at it doubtfully. 

Was the thing a trap? How far down would it sink with him? This was toomuch for Nimble Dick, even under the present overpoweringcircumstances--he laughed. His hostess blessed him for that laugh. Thehorrible stiffness was somewhat broken, and all were seated. 

Just at that moment came Alfred Ried, hurriedly, like one who hadintended promptness and missed it. 

"All here ahead of me!" he exclaimed, "Mrs. Roberts, I beg your pardon. At the last moment I went in search of Dr. Everett; there was seriousillness in a house next door, and I happened to know just where he was. "

During this address he was shaking hands with his hostess, his mannereasy and graceful, as one used to it all. Then he crossed the room, thatwonderful room, treading down those flowers on the carpet as though hehad no fears of breaking their stems. 

"Good evening, Miss Dennis, " he said, and he was bowing in a manner thatDirk Colson was confident he could imitate. Then he turned to the boys, shaking hands:--

"How are you, Haskell? By the way, Crowley, I called on you to-day atthe office; sorry not to find you in. "

"Mrs. Roberts, allow me?" And he wheeled one of the easy chairs to thespot where that lady was standing. 

"How well he enters into the thing, " said Gracie Dennis to herself, looking on in admiration at this young man, who, still so young, wasadapting himself to circumstances that might well have embarrassed olderheads than his. He plunged into talk with the boys, making them answerquestions. He had come but a few moments before from Mark Calkins', stopped there with a message from Dr. Everett; and these boys knew Markand Sallie and the worthless father, and all the more or less worthlessneighbors who ran in and out, and young Ried had a dozen questions toask. His quick-wittedness, and the ease with which he made talk to theseyoung men who lived in such an utterly different world from himself, surprised his hostess very much. 

Even she did not know to what an exalted pitch his enthusiasm andexcitement reached; though he had flashed a pair of most appreciativeeyes on her when she gave him her invitation for the evening. Here wasactually his sister Ester's darling scheme being worked out before hiseyes! Not only that, but he was being called upon to help. Ester hadwanted him to grow up to undertake just such efforts as these; and onlylast week they had seemed to him so altogether good and noble and soimpossible to try. Yet here he was helping try them! No wonder AlfredRied could talk. 

It had been determined in family council that Mr. Roberts must absenthimself. He was in the house, indeed--no further away than the library, ready for call in event of an emergency; but it was judged that anotherstranger, and such a formidable one as the head of the house, must beavoided for this one evening. As for Mr. Ried, _would_ they rememberthat he was not much older than some of them, and that he was not arich young man living on his income, but was earning his living by dailywork? and would they note the contrast between themselves and him?This was what their hostess wondered. A few moments and then came asummons to the dining-room. Seated at last, though one of the poorfellows stumbled over a chair, and barely saved himself from falling. 

If you could have seen that dining-table, the picture of it would havelingered long in your memory. The whitest and finest of damask tablelinen; napkins so large that they almost justified Dick Bolton'swhisper, "What be you goin' to do with your sheet?" china so delicatethat Gracie Dennis could not restrain an inward shiver when any of theclumsy fingers touched a bit of it, and such a glitter of silver as evenGracie had never seen before. 

One thing was different from the conventional tea-party. Every servantwas banished; none but tender eyes, interested in her experiment, andready to help it on, should witness the blunders of the boys. So thehostess had decreed, and so instructed Alfred and Gracie. Theconsequence was that Alfred himself served the steaming oysters withliberal hand, and Gracie presided over jellies and sauces, while Mrs. Roberts sugared and creamed and poured cups of such coffee as thosefellows had never even _smelled_ before. If you think they wereembarrassed to the degree that they could not eat, you are mistaken. 

They were street boys; their lives had been spent in a hardeningatmosphere. Directly the first sense of novelty passed away, and theirpoorly-fed stomachs craved the unusual fare served up for them, thefellows grinned at one another, seized their silver spoons, and divedinto the stews in a fashion that would have horrified every servant inthe house. 

How they ate! Oysters and coffee and pickles and cakes and jellies!There seemed no limit to their capacities; neither did they make theslightest attempt to correct their table manners. None of them paid anyoutward attention to their "sheets, " although Alfred and Gracie spreadtheirs with elaborate care; they leaned their elbows on the table, theymade loud, swooping sounds with their lips, and, in short, transgressedevery law known to civilized life. Why not?

What did they know about civilized life?

Nevertheless, not one movement of young Ried escaped the notice of someof them. 

He tried still to carry on a conversation; though the business of eatingwas being too closely attended to on all sides to let him be verysuccessful. 

Gracie studied _him_, and was not only interested in his efforts, butroused to make some attempts herself. What could she talk about withsuch people? School? The Literary Club? The last concert? The course oflectures? The last new book that everybody was reading? No, noteverybody; assuredly not these seven. 

On what ground _was_ she to meet them?

Yet talk she must and would. Mr. Ried should see that she at least_wanted_ to help. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

"LET US BE FASHIONABLE. "

One feature of the hour was not only entirely new to the boys, but gavethem a curious feeling, the name of which they did not understand. Whenthe last one sat back in his chair, thereby admitting himselfvanquished, Mrs. Roberts, looking at the young man who sat at the footof the table, said:--

"Will you return thanks?"

What did that mean? To be sure they had heard of thanking people, buteven _they_ were aware that it was an unusual thing for persons todemand thanks for themselves. They watched; behold, the young man bowedhis head, and these were the words he spoke:--

"Dear Saviour, we thank thee for the joys of this evening. We pray theeto teach us so to live that we may all meet some day in our Father'shouse. Amen. "

The boys looked at one another, then looked down at their plates. Theirsole experience of prayer was connected with the South End Mission. Tomeet it at a supper-table was a revelation. Did the people who lived ingrand houses, and had such wonderful things to eat, always pray at theirsupper-tables? This was the problem which they were turning over intheir minds. 

Returning to the parlor, Gracie went at once to the piano. She had spenta good deal of Monday, settling the question of what to play, and hadchosen the most sparkling music she could find. I am anxious to have itrecorded, that, all uncultured as they were, these boys neither talkednor laughed during the music, but appeared at least to listen. It wasDirk Colton who sat nearest to the piano, and who listened in thatindescribable way which always flatters a musician. 

"Do you like it?" Gracie asked, running off the final notes in a tinkleof melody. 

His dark face flushed a deep red. 

"I dunno, " he said, with an awkward laugh; "it's queer sounding. I don'tsee how you make so many tinkles. Do you make all your fingers go atonce on those black and white things?"

"Not quite; but sometimes they have to dance about in a very livelyfashion. I have to keep my wits at work, I assure you. "

"Is it hard to do?"

"Not very, nowadays. When I first commenced, the practising was horrid;I hated it. "

"What made you do it, then?"

"Oh, the same reason which makes people do a great many things thatthey don't like, " she said, lightly; "I wanted the results. I knew if Iworked at it steadily the time would come when I should not only enjoyit myself, but be able to give pleasure to other people. Why? Don't youever do things that you don't particularly like?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and bestowed on her a very wise look. 

"Often enough, " he said fiercely, and he thought of his drunken father. "But then I wouldn't if I could help it. "

"That would depend on whether you thought the thing would pay in theend, would it not?"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she asked "What is your business?"

"My business?" with a curiously puzzled air. 

"Yes; how do you spend your time?"

"Hunting up something to eat, " he said, with a grim smile; visions ofhis aimless loafing appearing before him as the only occupation he couldbe said to have. It had not occurred to him to try to mislead her, butshe evidently did not understand. 

"Oh, yes, " she said, seriously, "so I suppose. Isn't it queer how busymen and women have to be day after day, and year after year, justgetting themselves and others something to eat? Do you have other peopleto help get it for? Mother, for instance, and little brothers andsisters?"

"I've got a mother, " he said, "and a sister. "

"And that makes work easier, does it not? I always thought it would bestupid to work all the time just for one's self. But I meant, What doyou work at in order to get the something to eat, --there are so manydifferent ways?"

"How do you know I work at all?"

Dirk's voice was growing sullen; a consciousness that he would appear ata disadvantage in admitting himself an idler in a busy world was dawningupon him as an entirely new idea. At his question, Gracie turned on hermusic-stool and regarded him with surprise. 

"Why, of course you work, " she said; "people all do. "

She was not acting a part. Her experience among poor people was limitedto that outwardly respectable class who, however disreputable theirconduct might be on Sabbath, had, nevertheless a Monday occupation withwhich they pretended to earn a living. 

Dirk shrugged his shoulders again. 

"Do they?" he said. 

Her evident ignorance of the world made him good-natured. She was nottrying to preach to him, he decided. A thing which Dirk hated, in commonwith all persons of his class. 

But the lull in the music had started conversation in other parts of theroom. 

Dirk heard young Ried's question:--

"Mrs. Roberts, do you know of any young man looking for work? I heardof a good situation this afternoon. Oh, there are plenty of applicants, butthe gentleman is an old friend of my brother-in-law, and I could speak ahelpful word for somebody. "

"I have no one in mind, " Mrs. Roberts said, and she glanced eagerly atthe boys lounging in various attitudes in her easy chairs. Only three ofthem she knew made any pretence of earning their living. Did Alfred meanone of them? "Here is a chance for you, young gentlemen, " she said, lightly, "who bids for a situation?"

"What is the place?"

It was Dirk Colson who asked the question. Ever since he could rememberhe was supposed to have been hunting for work, but I am not sure that heever felt quite such a desire to find it as at that moment. 

"It is at Gray's, on Ninth Street, a good chance; but the one whosecures it must have a fair knowledge of figures. "

"Oh, land!" said Dirk, sinking lower in his easy-chair. "No use in_me_ asking about it. "

"Are figures your weak point?" Mrs. Roberts asked, smiling on him. "Ican sympathize with you; I had to work harder over arithmetic than atany other study; but I learned to like it. Do you know I think it shouldbe a favorite study with you? It is so nice to conquer anobstinate-looking row of figures, and fairly oblige the right result toappear. What did you find hardest about the study, Mr. Colson?"

The others chuckled, but Dirk glowered at them fiercely. 

"There's nothin' to laugh about as I see, " he said. "I didn't findnothin' hard, because I never had no chance to try. I never went to noschool, nor had books, nor nothin'; now that's the truth, and I'm blamedif I ain't going to own it. "

"What a good thing it is that you are young. " This was her animatedanswer. "There is a chance to make up for lost time. Mr. Ried, I havesuch a nice idea. I heard you and Dr. Everett speaking of the LiteraryClub the other night. Why cannot we have a literary club of our own? Areading circle, or something of that sort? Suppose we should meet once aweek and read aloud something interesting, and have talks about itafterwards. Do you ever read aloud?"

If Mrs. Roberts in all sincerity had not been one of the mostsimple-hearted, and in some respects ignorant little creatures on theface of the globe, she could never, with serious face, have addressedsuch a question to Nimble Dick. 

Young Ried could not have done it, for he realized the folly ofsupposing that Nimble Dick ever read anything. By just so much was Mrs. Roberts ahead of him. She supposed that these boys had their literature, and read it, and perhaps met somewhere on occasion and read together. This made it possible for her to ask surprising questions with honestface. 

"Bless me!" said Nimble Dick, startled into an upright posture; "oh, no, mum, never. "

And even Dirk Colson laughed at the expression on his face. 

"Still I think you would enjoy it, after a little practice, and I can'thelp fancying you would make a good reader. "

The boys were all laughing now, Nimble Dick with the rest. 

"You're in for an awful blunder there, " he said, good-naturedly. "I'mlike Black Dirk, never had no chances, and didn't do nothin' worthspeakin' of with them that I had. Why, bless your body, mum! I can'teven read to myself! I make the awfulest work you ever heard of spellin'out the show-bills. I have to get Black Dirk to help me; and him and meis a team. "

By this time Dirk's face had lost its smile, and his fierce eyes wereflashing; but the hostess was serene. 

"That doesn't prove anything against my statement. I was speaking ofwhat _could_ be, not necessarily of what was. Let us have a club. The more I think of the plan the more it pleases me. I'll tell you! Theword 'club' doesn't quite suit me. Let us be fashionable. Gracie, don'tyou know how fashionable it is becoming to have 'evenings' set apart forspecial occasions? Mr. Ried, you know Mrs. Judson's 'Tuesday evenings, 'and Mrs. Symond's 'Friday evenings?' Very well, let us have our 'Mondayevenings, ' in which we will do all sorts of nice things; sometimesliterary, sometimes musical, and sometimes--well, anything that weplease. What do you say, gentlemen; shall we organize? Mr. Ried, willyou give Monday evenings to us? Gracie, you are my guest, and cannot, of course, refuse. "

It was a novel idea, certainly. Even Alfred, while trying to heartilysecond her, was in doubt as to what she could hope to accomplish by it. As for the boys, not one of them promised to attend; but neither didthey refuse. Mrs. Roberts presently left the subject, seeming toconsider her point carried, and proposed a visit to the conservatory. 

I think it very doubtful whether the boy lives who does not likeflowers. There are those who seem to consider it a mark of manliness toaffect indifference to them; but these, as they grow older--become realmen--generally lay this bit of folly aside. Then there are those, plentyof them, who really do not know that they care for flowers. The boys, ushered for the first time in their lives into the full bloom of aconservatory, were, most of them, of this latter stamp. 

What a scene of beauty it was! Great white callas, bending theirgraceful cups; great red and yellow roses, making the air rich withtheir breath; vines and mosses and ferns and small flowers in almostendless variety. Alfred and Gracie moved among the glories; the latterexhausting all her superlatives in honest delight, although she hadvisited the spot a dozen times that day; and Alfred, who had been lessfavored, was hardly less eager and responsive than she. But Mrs. Robertswatched the boys. 

It was all very well for those two to enjoy her flowers; of course theywould. But what language would the silent, lovely things speak to heruntutored boys? They said not a word; not one of them. They made noexclamations; they had no superlatives at command. But Stephen Crowleystooped before a lovely carnation, and smelled, and _smelled_, drawing in long breaths, as though he meant to take its fragrance allaway with him; and Nimble Dick picked up the straying end of an ivy, andrestored it to its support again, in a way that was not to be lost sightof by one who was looking for hearts; and Dirk Colson brushed back hismatted hair and stood long before a great, pure lily, and looked downinto its heart with an expression on his face that his teacher neverforgot. 

She came over to him presently, standing beside him, saying nothing. Then at last she reached forth her hand and broke the lily from itsstalk. He started, almost as if something had struck him. 

"What did you do that for?" And his voice was fierce. 

"I want you to take this for me to your sister--the girl with beautifulgolden hair; I saw her one day, and I shall remember her hair and eyes. She will like this flower, and she will like you to bring it to her. 

"Gracie"--raising her voice--"gather some flowers will you, and makeinto bouquets? These young gentlemen will like to carry them to some one. There must be mothers at home who will enjoy bouquets brought by theirsons. "

Over this gently-spoken sentence Nimble Dick laughed a hard, derisivelaugh. It made the dark blood flow into black Dirk's indignant face. Even Alfred Ried lost self-control for a moment, and flashed a glance athim out of angry eyes. How could there be any hope of a boy who sneeredat his mother? Yet you need not judge him too harshly. 

He thought of his mother, indeed, when he laughed; but alas! he thoughtof her as drunk. And he knew her scarcely at all, save as that worddescribed her. How _could_ "mother" mean to him what it meant toAlfred Ried? what it meant even to Dirk Colson, whose mother, weakindeed in body and spirit, full of complaining words, oftentimes weaklybitter words to him, yet patched his clothes so long as she could getpatches and thread, and would have washed them if she could have gotsoap, and been able to bring the water, and if her only tub hadn't beenin pawn. Oh, yes, there are degrees in mothers. 

Mrs. Roberts, meantime, broke off blossoms with lavish hand, and madebouquets for Nimble Dick and for Dirk. He took the bright-hued ones witha smile, but the lily he held by itself, and still looked at it. 

They went away at last noisily; growing almost, if not quite, roughtowards one another, at least, and directly they were out of the door, Nimble Dick gave a whoop that would have chilled the blood of nervouswomen. But matron and maiden looked at each other and laughed. 

"We have kept them pent up all the evening, and that is the escape-valvebeing raised to avoid a general explosion. " This was Mrs. Roberts'explanation. 

They were quite alone. Alfred, on being invited in low tones to tarryand talk things over, had shaken his head, and replied, significantly:--

"Thank you! no; I am one of them, and must stand on the same level. "

"You are right, " Mrs. Roberts said, smilingly; "you must have been anapt pupil, my friend. That dear sister taught you a great deal. "

He held up the bouquet which she had made for him. 

"I am going to put it before Ester's picture, " he said; "her work isgoing on. "

"Well, " said Gracie, "it is over, and we lived through it. And they_did_ all come! I am amazed over that! And how they _did eat_! Isuppose the next thing is to open all the windows and air out. FlossyRoberts, I'm afraid you are going insane. The idea of your inviting thathorde here every Monday. What a parlor you would have! And they wouldbreed a pestilence! They won't come, to be sure; but just imagine it ifthey should! I really think Mr. Roberts ought to send you home for Dr. Mitchell to look after. Well, Flossy, what next?"

"Next, dear, you must pray. Pray as you never have done before, forthe souls of these boys, and for the success of my 'Monday evenings. 'Gracie, we are at work for immortal _souls_. Think of it! they _must_live forever. Shall they, through all eternity, keep dropping lower andlower, or shall they wear crowns?"

CHAPTER XIV. 

"SOMETHING'S HAPPENED!"

Sallie Calkins sat in a common little rocking-chair and rocked; andwhile she rocked she sewed, setting neat stitches in a brown coat whichwas already patched and darned and was threadbare in many places. Therewas a look of deep content on Sallie's face. There were many reasons forit. 

Dr. Everett had that morning pronounced Mark's broken limb to be healingrapidly. He had also reported that Mark's place was to be held open forhim by his employers. At this present moment, Mark, arrayed in a cleanshirt, was resting on a very white sheet, his head reposing on a realfeather pillow dressed in white and frilled. Over him was carefullyspread another of those wonderful sheets, and to make the crowningglory, a white quilt, warm and soft, tucked him in on every side. Howcould Sallie but rejoice? All about the room there had been changes. Aneat little table stood at the bed's side. It was covered with a whitecloth, and a china bowl set thereon with a silver spoon beside it; adelicate goblet and china pitcher also, both carefully covered with anapkin. Did Mrs. Roberts know how homely Sallie gloried in the thinnessof that china and the fineness of that napkin? How does it happen thatsome of the very poor seem born with such aesthetic tastes? Mrs. Robertshad intuitions, and was given to certain acts, concerning which shecould not give to others satisfactory explanations. Therefore, shesometimes left china where others would have judged the plaineststoneware more prudent and sensible. 

A bit of bright carpet was spread at the side of the bed. A fire glowedin the neatly-brushed stove. A white muslin curtain hung at the window;and the chair in which Sallie rocked and sewed was new and gaylypainted. 

There were other traces of Mrs. Roberts. You might not have noticedthem, but it seemed to Sallie that her fingers had touched everywhere. Yet the lady herself thought that she had done very little. She had heldher inclinations in check with severe judgment. 

The door opened softly, and a mass of golden hair, from out of whichpeered great eyes, peeped cautiously in. 

"Alone?" it said, nodding first toward the figure on the bed, andintimating that she was aware of Mark's presence, and did not mean him. 

"Yes, " said Sallie, "come in; Mark's asleep, but you won't disturb him;he don't disturb easy; he sleeps just like a baby since the doctorstopped that pain in his knee. There's my new chair; just try it and seehow nice it is. "

Saying which, she got herself out of the little rocker in haste, andpushed it toward her guest, meantime taking a plain wooden chair, alsonew, and adding:--

"Did you ever hear of anybody like her before?"

"Something's happened!" said Mart Colson, ignoring the reference to themysterious pronoun, --her voice so full of a new and strange meaningthat had Sallie been acquainted with the word she might have said it wasfilled with awe. 

As it was, she only exclaimed, "What?" in an intensely interested tone. 

"Why, look here! I brought it along to show you. "

Whereupon she produced from under her piece of torn shawl a largebroken-nosed pitcher, a piece of brown paper carefully tied over thetop. She untied the bit of calico string with fingers that shook fromexcitement. 

"Look in there!" she exclaimed at last, triumph in her tone, reachingforward the pitcher. 

Sallie looked, and drew in her breath with a long, expressive "O-h!"

There, reposing in stately beauty, lay the great white lily with itsgolden bell. 

"Yes, I should think so!" Mart said, satisfied with the expression. "Didyou ever see anything like that before? It ain't made of wax noranything else that _folks_ ever made. It's alive! I felt of it. Itlooks like velvet and satin and all them lovely store things; but itdoesn't feel so; it feels _alive_, and it _grew_. But, SallieCalkins, if you should live a hundred years, and guess all the time, younever could guess where I got it. Sallie Calkins, if you'll believe it, Dirk gave it to me!"

"Dirk?"

"Yes, he did!"

Who would have supposed Mart Colson's voice capable of such a triumphantring?

"You see the way of it was: Last night he didn't come for his supper atall, and that always scares me dreadful. I'm expecting something tohappen, you know. Father, he didn't come either; for the matter of that, he hasn't come yet; and mother, she was awful tired, and hadn't had nodinner to speak of, and she just broke down and took on awful. Motherdon't often cry, and it's good she don't, for she just goes into it withall her might when the time comes. It wasn't about father--she's used tohim, you know, and don't expect nothing else; but Dirk drives her wildwith what may happen to him. I was worried about him, too, but I was madat him; it seemed too awful mean in him to stay away and scare mother. At last I got her to go to bed, and she was all tuckered out, and wentto sleep. 

"Then I wrapped myself in the quilt and sat down to wait; but I gotasleep, and I dreamed I saw _her_; she had wings to each side ofher, and she flew over the tops of all those houses and made them turnwhite like the snow looks when it is coming down before it drops intothe gutters. Wasn't that queer? Well, some noise woke me up. I wassitting flat on the floor by mother, and I sat up straight all of atremble. And there was the old stool, and the brown pitcher on it, half-full of water, and this wonderful thing stood in it looking at me. And Dirk, he stood off the other side looking at it. 

"'It's for you, and she sent it. ' That's what he said to me; and Iwasn't real wide awake, you know. I suppose that's what made his voicesound so queer; and what do you think I said? I was thinking of mydream, and says I: 'Did she have her wings on?' Then Dirk made a queernoise; it was a laugh, but it sounded most like a cry. 'I guess so, 'says he, and then he turned and went off to bed. And I can't get anymore out of him; he is as snarly when I ask any questions as though hewas mad about it all. If it hadn't been for this great white thing Imight have thought this morning that it all belonged to the dream. ButDirk brought this home from somewhere, and put it in the pitcher, andgive it to me his own self; that's sure. "

The story closed in triumph. 

"It is beautiful!" said Sallie, the brown jacket slipping to the floor, while she bent over the lily. "It is beautiful, all of it, and it looksjust like her, and sounds like her, wings and all; of course she sentit. "

"And Dirk brought it. " That part of the story Mart Colson did notforget. 

Sometimes it seems to me a pity that hearts are not laid bare to thegaze of others. What, for instance, might not this little incident havedone for Dirk Colson had he known how the starved heart of his sisterfed on the thought that he brought her the flower?

Still, on the other hand, I don't know what the effect would have beenon Mart had she known what a tremendous amount of courage it had takento present the flower to her. A dozen times on the way home had Dirkbeen on the point of consigning it to the gutter. _He_ carry home aflower! If it had been a loaf of bread he thought it would be moreconsistent. Someway he recognized a fine sarcasm in the thought that he, who had never in his life contributed towards the necessities of thefamily, should carry to that dreary home a flower! Yet the fair lily didits work well during that long walk from East Fifty-fifth Street to theshadow of the alley. It made Dirk Colson tell it fiercely that he hatedhimself; that he was a brute and a loafer, --a blot on the earth, andought not to live. Why didn't he go to work? Why didn't he have thingsto bring home to Mart every little while, as Mark Calkins did to Sallie?Hadn't he seen Mark, only a few evenings before he was hurt, with a pairof girl's shoes strung over his shoulder, and heard him whistle as heran, two steps at a time, up the rickety stairs? What would Mart thinkif he should bring her home a pair of shoes? What would she think of hisbringing her a flower? She would sneer, of course: and, in the moodwhich then possessed him, Dirk said angrily that she had a right tosneer, and would be a fool not to; and yet he hated the thought of it. There was nothing in life that Dirk hated more than sneers; and he hadbeen fed on them ever since he could remember. 

He was altogether unprepared for the reception which the lily received. That suggestion about wings, which seemed so apt, had brought the"queer" sound to his voice that Mart had noticed. If only she hadunderstood, and not spoiled, next morning, the effect of her words. 

In the prosaic daylight, the illusion of "wings" being banished, she wasbent on knowing how Dirk came into possession of the lily. 

"Who sent it, Dirk? I don't believe anybody told you to give it to me. Who would care about _my_ having a flower? Where did you get it?"

"Where do you s'pose?" Dirk's voice was ominously gruff. It is a painfultruth that by daylight he was ashamed of his part of the transaction. "Itold you she sent it. It's noways likely that I'd take the trouble tomake up a lie about that weed. How do I know what she wanted you to haveit for? Maybe she thought it matched your looks. "

There was a bitter sneer in Dirk's voice, yet all the time he heard thesweet, low voice saying, "That girl with the beautiful golden hair. "Suppose he should tell Mart that? Why not? Let me tell you that DirkColson would not have repeated that sentence for the world! And yet hedid not know why. 

Mart's face burned red under his sneer. 

"How am I to know who 'she' is?" she said, in bitter scorn. "Some ofyour bar-room beauties, for whom you dance and whistle, I suppose. Youcan tell her I would rather have my shawl out of pawn, or some shoes formy feet, enough sight. What do I care for a great flower mocking at me?"

"Pitch it into the fire, then; and it will be many a long day before Ibring you anything else, " said Dirk, pushing himself angrily back fromthe table, where he had been eating bread dipped in a choice bit of porkfat. 

"There isn't a bit of danger of my doing that, " she called after him, mockingly. "There isn't a spark of fire, nor likely to be to-day, unlesssome of your admirers send me a shovel of coal. Mercy knows, I wish theywould. "

He mercifully lost part of this sentence, for the reason that before itwas concluded he was moving with long, angry strides up the alley. 

And then Mart took the broken-nosed pitcher away into the furthermostcorner, although she was alone in the room, and laid her face againstthe cool, pure lily, and wept into it great burning tears. Poor, ignorant soul! She wanted, oh, how she _wanted_ Dirk to be braveand good like Mark Calkins--her one type of manhood. Yet she did notknow that she was crushing out the germ which might have grown in hisheart. True, she knew herself to be very different from Sallie, but thethought, poor soul, that that was because Mark was so different fromDirk. 

Isn't it a pity that the sweet-faced lily could not have told its tenderstory to both these ignorant ones?

CHAPTER XV. 

"WHAT MADE HER DIFFERENT?"

"I have heard a good deal about your sister that has interested me. Doyou like to talk of her?"

This was the question which Gracie Dennis asked of young Ried as hestood beside her at the piano. She had been playing, and had come tothe music alcove for the purpose of turning her music; but now shewas touching sweet chords here and there aimlessly, and waiting forhis answer. 

At the further end of the parlor Mrs. Roberts was entertaining a caller;but the distance between them was so great that, in effect, the youngpeople were alone. 

"I like nothing better than to talk of her. " Mr. Ried said, withanimation; "but I don't know so much about her as I wish I did. She wentaway when I was quite young. I used to say 'she died, ' but since I haveawakened to see her cherished plans being carried on all around me Icannot think of her as dead. "

"That is what I want to talk about, --her work, or her plans for work. What made her so different from other people, Mr. Ried. _Wasn't_she different?"

The young man regarded the question thoughtfully before answering. 

"Not from all the people, " he said at last; "but certainly verydifferent from some. I used to think that all Christians were like her, of course; then, when I saw my mistake, I went to the other extreme, andthought there were none like her on earth. I have discovered that themedium position is the correct one. "

"But what I want to know is, what _made_ her different? It wasn'ther age. Mrs. Roberts thinks she was young?"

"She was hardly nineteen when she died. Oh, no, it wasn't age; shetold me that she used to be very different. She was a Christian fromchildhood, but she said that she was ashamed to claim the name. Therewas nothing Christlike about her; still she was a member of the Church. As I remember her, and as I look at other people, my judgment is that, in her early Christian life, she was much like most of the Christianswith whom you and I are familiar. "

"And what made her different? Was it--that is--do you think it wasbecause she was to die so soon that she had a special experience?"

"Not at all, " he said, promptly; "it was before she realized anythingabout her condition that the great change took place in her. Mybrother-in-law says that she supposed herself to be in perfect healthat the time when she was most marked in her Christian life. "

"Ah! but you don't understand; I mean more than that. It is difficult totell what I mean; I mean--but you know, of course, _God_ knew thatshe was soon to go to heaven. I thought, perhaps, he gave her a specialexperience on that account. "

"No; oh, no, " he said, speaking with great earnestness. "Ester wasparticularly anxious that no one should suppose her experienceexceptional. Little fellow though I was, it seemed to be her desire thatI should fully understand this. Don't let anybody make you think thatbecause you are a little boy you must be a sort of half-way Christian, 'she used to say, and her eyes would glow with feeling. 'I tried that wayfor years, ' she said, 'and I want you to understand that it is not onlysinful, but there is not a particle of happiness to be gotten out ofit--not a particle; and I would give almost nothing for what such aChristian can accomplish. The harm one does, more than overbalances alleffort for Christ. ' I think, perhaps, she felt more deeply on that thanon almost any subject; and it was because she thought she had wasted somany years. "

"Then do you think that there is, or rather that there should be, nodifference in Christians? Have all the same work to do?"

"Not that, quite, of course, --or, I don't know, either. Isn't it alldifferent forms of the Master's work. The children of the home may haveeach a different task, but each is needed to make the home what itshould be, and each worker needs the same spirit of love andunselfishness to enable him to do his part. It isn't a perfectillustration, Miss Dennis. I'm not skillful in that direction; but _I_know what I mean, and that is a comfort. "

"And I know what you mean, " Gracie said, not joining in his laugh; "butI am not sure that I believe it. Why, Mr. Ried, that would make a verysolemn thing of living. "

"Well, did you suppose it was other than solemn? I'm sure it makes atriumphant thing of it, too; and without it we are only a lot of waxfigures, dancing to pass the time away. "

"But don't you really think that people have a right to have _any_ nicetimes?"

"Miss Dennis, did you ever see any person who had nicer times than yourfriend, Mrs. Roberts?"

"Well, Flossy is peculiar; her tastes all seem to lie in this direction;though once they did not, I admit. Papa used to think that she had notalent for anything but dancing. Something changed Flossy's entirecharacter. No one who knew her two years ago could possibly deny that. "

"She will serve as an illustration, then, to explain my meaning. Ibelieve, Miss Dennis, that religion should have sufficient power overus to change all our tastes and plans in life, fitting them to theSaviour's use. "

"But what would such a rule as that do with most of the Christians ofyour acquaintance?"

"Ah! I am old and experienced enough to warn you not to make shipwreckof your happiness on that shoal. I hovered around it, and vexed my soulover the whole bewildering question until I suddenly discovered that Iwas held absolutely responsible only for my own soul, and that the Lordwould look after his own. "

For a time there was no answer to this. 

Gracie let her fingers wander with apparent aimlessness over the keys, drawing out soft, sweet strains. Suddenly she said:--

"What do you expect Flossy will accomplish with that last scheme ofhers? I ought to beg her pardon for the familiar name, but I have knownher ever since I was a child. Don't you think her attempts for thoseboys rather hopeless?"

Instantly the young man's eyes filled with tears, and when he spoke hisvoice indicated deep emotion. 

"I can hardly tell you how I feel about those boys. I have been anxiousfor them so long and felt so hopeless. Do you remember how Elijah satunder a juniper tree, discouraged, and said that he was the only onewho had not bowed the knee to Baal, and the Lord told him he wasmistaken, that there were five thousand others? It sounds ridiculouslyegotistical, but I have felt at times something like that; as though Iwas the only one who cared whether the poor fellows went to destructionor not. But since I have met Mrs. Roberts, and seen how intense she isand single-hearted, and since through her I have met Dr. Everett, andseen how they are trying to work at the same problem, and since I havecome to know how Mr. Roberts is at work all the time for young men; and, above all, since that wonderful evening here last Monday, when I saw howtwo gifted ladies understood the art of turning their accomplishments toaccount, in order to take those poor fellows captive for Christ, Idiscovered that there were ways of solving this problem about which Ihad known nothing, and people to carry it through. It was simplyglorious in you to give those fellows such music as you did, and toaccomplish by it what you did. My life has been narrow, Miss Dennis; Inever saw the piano used for Christ before. "

Gracie looked down at the keys, her face aglow. It was a new experience, this being classed among the Christian workers of the world; making hermusic for other purposes than to amuse the gay friends who chanced togather around her. She made the keys speak loudly for a few minutes, then softening them, said:--

"You must not class me with Flossy, Mr. Ried. I only did what she wanteddone. I am not in the least like her, unselfish and gentle and allthat. "

But his reply, spoken low, was pleasant to her ears:--

"'By their fruits ye shall know them. '"

He evidently looked upon her as a worker. She could not help feelingthat it was pleasant to be so classed. What an intense young man he was!Not in the least like those with whom she had hitherto been mostfamiliar. 

There was another voice in the front parlor--a strong, vigorous voicethat carried a sense of power with it. 

"Ah!" said Ried, his eyes bright, his face eager; "that is Dr. Everett. Just study him if you want another type of the sort of Christian aboutwhom we have been talking; the grandest man!"

Gracie, shielded by the distance, turned on her stool and studied him. Certainly he did not look much as though he were appointed for earlydeath. What a splendid physique it was!

And how thoroughly wide awake and interested he was in the subject underdiscussion. Bits of the talk floated back to the two at the piano. 

"Oh, he is young, " Dr. Everett was saying; "I hope for returned vigor intime; but there must be long weeks of patience before he will be readyfor his old employment. "

"Do you know of whom he is speaking?" Gracie asked. 

"I fancy it is that Calkins boy, the one with the broken limb. He isdeeply interested in the poor fellow, and is trying to plan employmentof some less wearing sort for him, I believe. Dr. Everett is alwaysintensely interested in somebody. "

"Is it always the very poor?"

Alfred laughed. 

"Not always. I know several quite well-to-do fellows in whom he keepsa careful oversight; but he is grandly interested in the poor. He istaking rank as one of the most successful physicians in the city, and, of course, he is pressed for time; yet he is so continually at the callof the poor that people begin to speak of him as the poor man's doctor. He told me he was proud of that title. "

At this point the musicians were appealed to to come to the frontparlor, and Gracie had opportunity for a nearer study of the man whomshe could not help but admire. He was not likely to suffer from a nearerview; at least, not while Gracie was in the mood that then possessedher. He greeted her cordially, and at once brought her into theconversation by appealing to her for a decision, seeming to take it forgranted that she was of the same spirit with himself. 

This young lady was taking lessons of life that were designed to behelpful to her if she would but let them. A thoroughly well-educated andcultured gentleman, well fitted to take high rank in society, not in theministry, and yet thoroughly absorbed in what she had hitherto almostunconsciously set down as ministers' work was a mystery to her. Moreover, for the second time that evening, she felt a curious sense ofsatisfaction in being classed among the energetic workers of the world. The pretty school-girl, who had lived all her young life in aneighborhood where she was "Gracie Dennis, " looked up to, indeed, by herset, and having a decided influence of her own, yet felt it to be anovel experience to hear herself addressed in a clear, firm voice afterthis manner:--

"Miss Dennis, what means would you advise for interesting a company ofyoung girls in reading, regularly, books which would be of use to them?Of course, I speak of a class of girls who have done no reading of anyaccount heretofore, and who have no knowledge in the matter. "

"It is something about which I have not thought at all, " said Gracie, her pretty face all in a flush. "But I should suppose the way would beto take one girl at a time, and study her, to find what would be likelyto interest and help _her_, and also to get such an influence overher that she would read what I wanted her to. "

"First catch your hare, eh? Good!" said the doctor, with an approvingglance towards Mrs. Roberts. "The longer I live the more convinced am Ithat individual effort is what accomplishes the great things in thisworld. "

There was more talk about this and kindred matters; and Gracie foundherself drawn out, and her interest excited on themes about which shehad supposed she knew nothing. 

Then occurred an interruption, --a ringing of the door-bell. 

"For Miss Dennis, " said the messenger; but she handed the card to Mrs. Roberts. 

There was just a moment of hesitation, while that lady apparentlystudied the name, then she said, composedly:--

"This is Professor Ellis, Gracie. Do you wish to receive him thisevening?"

Since I have known Mrs. Roberts well, I have studied her innocentlysincere manner, with not a little curiosity as to the probable effect onthe world, suppose it were possible for others to adopt her method. Theactual practical effect with her is that she succeeds often in wiselydeceiving, while intending to be perfectly sincere. For instance, herquestion to Gracie after a moment of hesitation, during which she askedherself, "What ought I to do?" and immediately answered herself, "Thereis nothing for me to do, but to be perfectly straight-forward. "

Her question was intended to say to Gracie: "I trust you. What yourfather has directed you to do, I feel sure you will obey. " But it saiddifferent things from that to Gracie. Ever since she had been told thatshe might make her old acquaintance, Flossy, a visit, this highly-strungyoung lady had been suspicious that this was a device of her stepmotherto get pleasantly rid of her for a few weeks. She surmised that a verycarefully elaborate account of her sins had been written out by thissame stepmother for the benefit of her young hostess, and that specialdirections had been given for guarding her from the wolf, ProfessorEllis. She would have spoiled the entire scheme by haughtily refusing toleave home had not the innocent delight of a young girl over the thoughtof visiting a beautiful strange city gotten the better of her pride. Thegently-put question of her hostess disarmed a whole nest of suspicions. It was hardly possible that it had been hinted to Flossy that her guestmight attempt to elope with this man, else she would not with sereneface be asking whether it was her wish to receive him. 

"If you please, " she made haste to answer, her cheeks glowing the while, and Mrs. Roberts gave instant direction that the gentleman be shown tothe parlor. 

There were several new lessons set for Miss Gracie Dennis to learn thatevening. One was that Professor Ellis, with his faultless dress andexcessive politeness, his finished bows and smiles, that would have donecredit to any ball-room in the land, his accurate knowledge of all theprinted rules of etiquette, yet in Mrs. Roberts' parlor, contrasted withDr. Everett, and even with young Ried, the dry-goods clerk, appeared ata disadvantage. 

She was slow in learning the lesson: on that first evening she simplystared at it in bewilderment. What did it mean? There was an attempt todraw the professor into the circle, to continue the conversation thathad been so animated and interesting before his entrance. The effect wasmuch like that produced in striking a discordant note in a hithertofaultless piece of music. Young men out of business needing help, needing an encouraging word, an out-stretched hand! Professor Ellis hadwords, and hands, but he might have been without either for all the helpthey gave him in responding to efforts like these. Books to help upliftthe young, to give them high ideas of life, to enthuse them withdesires to live for a purpose! Truly he could only stare blankly at thesuggestion. What did he know of books written for such purposes? YetGracie had supposed him to be literary in his tastes and pursuits. Certainly he read French? Yes, French novels! He was quite familiar withsome of such a character that, had Gracie been a good French scholar andever likely to come in contact with a copy of them, he would not havedared to mention their names in her presence. More than once of late hadthe stepmother wished that her young daughter understood the languagewell enough to be aware that the man whom she admired used frequentlysmooth-sounding French oaths. But alas for Gracie, when he had sopoisoned her mother's influence over this dangerously pretty girl, thatshe would have believed his word at any time rather than that mother's. Well, he read other than French novels; Charles Reade, for instance, andsome of the more recent authors fashionable in certain circles. It istrue that Gracie was not acquainted with them, that her father would notallow a copy of their books to come freely into his home, and Gracie wasmuch too honorable to read them in private. But it is also true thatwhile professing to admire this trait in her, as charming in a youngdaughter, the professor had also, pityingly and gently, told this youngdaughter that these things were her father's concessions to the narrowage and trammelled profession to which he belonged; that the fact was, free thought was discouraged, because there was that in every churchwhich would not bear its light; that her wise father was one of ahundred in recognizing this, and trying to shield her while she wasyoung. 

You are also to remember that she _was_ young, and therefore forgive herthat she did not detect the contradictory sophistry in the professor'swords. He really understood how to sugar-coat poison as well as any manof his stamp could. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

"HERE WAS HIS OPPORTUNITY. "

But the question which would keep forcing itself on Gracie Dennis wasthis: "If he really knows of nice books, full of 'the beautiful' and'the ennobling, ' that would enlighten the race, as he has often told me, why doesn't he mention some of them now? There is no minister here'trammelled by long years of narrowing education. ' How does he know butthat these people are as 'advanced' in their ideas as he is himself?"

I do not mean that she was conscious of thinking these thoughts, butthat they hovered on the edge, as it were, of her mind, making her feelill at ease. Dr. Everett, on his part, seemed courteously bent onsecuring an expression of the professor's opinion about matters of whichhe either could not, or would not, talk. When at last the disturbedgentleman resolved to violate what Gracie was sure was a law of goodbreeding, and address her in French, what with her embarrassment lestothers should understand, and her own marked ignorance of the language, she found great difficulty in making a free translation. "Upon my word, I wish you understood French, or some other tongue, so that we couldescape from this boredom. Does the poor little prisoner have much ofthis to endure? Cannot we escape to the music-room, and talk thingsover?"

Gracie cast a frightened glance about her to see if there were otherswho understood better than herself this sentence, which, for aught sheknew, might contain something startling. But Alfred was busily engagedin looking up the name of a book which he had vainly tried to recall, and Dr. Everett was apparently serenely oblivious to any language buthis mother-tongue. Very soon after this Gracie managed to escape withher caller to the music alcove; thus much of the French she hadunderstood, and at least Professor Ellis could play; which fact sheresolved that the people in the front parlor should speedily understand. Ah, but he could play! and herein lay one of his strong fascinations forthe music-loving girl. For a time the most ravishing strains rolledthrough the parlor hushing into rapt attention the group gathered there, who had just been reinforced by the coming of Mr. Roberts. By degreesthe strains grew fainter and fainter, and at last ceased altogether, asthe professor, still on the music-stool, bent over Gracie, seated in alow chair, and apparently found fluent speech at last. 

Mrs. Roberts, meantime, was ill at ease. What would Dr. Dennis andMarion say, could they have a peep at this moment into her back parlor?Was she being faithful to her trust? Yet what was there she could do?She tried to sustain her part in the conversation, but her troubledgaze, constantly wandering elsewhere, betrayed her. Dr. Everett's keeneyes were upon her. 

"Are you particularly interested in that man?" he asked, abruptly. 

Mrs. Roberts smiled faintly. 

"I am particularly interested in that girl, " she said. 

"How do you like her present companionship?"

"Not at all, " she answered, quickly. 

Whereupon Mr. Roberts began to question. 

"May I know, doctor, whether you have any other reason than that ofintuition for asking the question?"

"Possibly not, " said the doctor, guardedly. "It maybe a case of mistakenidentity. Mrs. Roberts, would you like to have me investigate somethingthat may be to his disadvantage?"

Mrs. Roberts had a prompt answer ready:--

"There are reasons why it is specially important that such aninvestigation should be made and reported to me. May I commission you?"

The doctor bowed; and the subject of Professor Ellis was immediatelydropped. 

During the following week certain innovations took place in Mrs. Roberts well-ordered household. At the end of the conservatory was along, bright, and hitherto unfurnished room; it had been designed as asort of second conservatory, whenever the beauties of that departmentshould outgrow their present bounds, but meantime other plants hadtaken root and blossomed in the mistress' heart. Early in this weekthe unused room had been opened and cleaned; then began to arrivepackages of various shapes and sizes; a roll of carpeting, and twoyoung men from the carpet store; and there followed soon after thesound of hammering. Furniture-wagons halted before the door, leavingtheir burdens. Men and women flitted to and fro, busy and important. 

It was Saturday night before Mr. Roberts and his young clerk wereinvited in to admire and criticise the new room. Mr. Roberts, at least, was prepared to appreciate its transformation. 

The floor was covered with a heavy carpet in lovely shades of mossygreen, and easy chairs and couches in tints that either matched or madedelightful contrasts with the carpet abounded. The walls were hung withpictures and charts and maps. A study-table occupied the centre of theroom--one of those charming tables, full of mysterious drawers andunexpected corners; paper and pens and inks in various colors weredisposed about this table in delightful profusion. 

Other tables, plenty of them, small and neat, each of a different shapeor design, were stationed at intervals, in convenient proximity tocomfortable chairs. Nothing could be further removed from one's idea ofa school-room than was that long, beautiful parlor; yet when you thoughtof it, and took a second, deliberate survey, nothing that could havecontributed to the enjoyment of pupils was missing. A small cabinetorgan occupied an alcove, and music-books of various grades were strewnover it. Toward this spot Mrs. Roberts smiled significantly as her eyecaught Alfred Ried's, and she said:--

"I have visions of sacred Sabbath evening half-hours, connected withthis corner, one of these days; meantime, is this a pleasant room forour Monday evenings?"

But Alfred could not answer her; his head was turned away, and there wasa suspicious lump in his throat, that made him know better than toattempt speech. He was standing at that moment under one of thewall-texts that the gaslight illumined until it glowed, and the wordsstood out with startling clearness:--

"Let us not sleep as do others, but let us watch and be sober. "

His sister's text; one that, perhaps more than any other, was on herlips when she talked with him; one that hung at her coffin's head whenhe, a little boy, stood beside the coffin and looked down at her face, and looked up at that text, and took a mental photograph of both to livein his heart forever. 

"This is your special chair, " Mrs. Roberts said, smiling up at him; andhe understood her, --here was his opportunity to live out that text forhis sister. Wouldn't he try!

"Well, " said Gracie, drawing a long breath, "as a study it is certainlya success. One can easily see, Flossy, why you were born with theability to tell at a glance what colors harmonized, and just wherethings fitted in. I can't imagine anything prettier than this, and Icannot imagine what you are going to do with it. "

Whereupon they sat down to talk that important question over: what theywere going to try to do. Sometimes I have wondered whether Ester, fromher beautiful home, could look down on it all, and whether she smiledover the fact that her work was doing so much more than she had planned?She had roused in her little brother an ambition that had grown with hisyears, and that had helped to hold him away from many temptations: somuch, doubtless, she had foreseen; but what a blessed thing it was thatshe had touched, in those long ago years, influences which had drawn herbrother, in his young and perilous manhood, into intimate relations withsuch people as Mr. And Mrs. Roberts, so that they sat down familiarly totalk over mutual interests! But for Ester's words, spoken long ago, butfor her strong desires transmitted to him, he might have sat with a verydifferent circle, and talked over widely different schemes. On the edgeof this circle Gracie Dennis hovered. She could not but be interested intheir talk, for she was a Christian, and her father was a Christian, andshe had, all her life breathed in the atmosphere of a Christian home. 

At the same time she could but imagine some of their ideas wild ones, for she had never been associated with people who widely overstepped theconventional ways of doing things; and she had, of late, been much withProfessor Ellis who had a sort of gentlemanly sneer for every phase ofChristian work, and, so far as could be discovered, believed in nothing. He had not been outspoken, it is true, and herein lay one of thedangers. He was too skillful to be outspoken; but the subtle poison hadbeen working, and although Gracie could not help being interested inthose queer boys, she could not help thinking Flossy's whole schemeexceedingly visionary, and expected it to come to grief. The puzzlingquestion was, why did Mr. Roberts, being a keen-sighted man, permit itall! Or was he so much in love with Flossy that he could not bear tothwart even her wildest flights? It was strange, too, to see a young manlike Alfred Ried so absorbed; his sister must have had wonderful powerover him, Gracie thought. She went back to his sister's influence, always, in trying to explain the matter, and never gave a thought toChrist's influence. Meantime she listened to the various plans proposedfor the first Monday evening, and was sufficiently interested to gatherher pretty face in a frown when the distant peal from the door-bellsounded through the house. 

"What a pity to be interrupted by a caller!" she exclaimed. "This roomis so much nicer than the parlor. Flossy, don't you hope it is some oneto see Mr. Roberts on business?"

"No, " said Mrs. Roberts, shaking her head, with a smile, "I feel inspecial need of Mr. Roberts just now. Evan, I really think we must beexcused to callers for this one evening; there are so many things toarrange. "

"Let us wait and see, " answered Mr. Roberts "perhaps the Lord sent thecaller here to help us, or to be helped. "

At that moment came the card. 

"Oh, it is Dr. Everett!" was Mrs. Roberts' exclamation. "Let us have himcome directly here. Evan, please go and escort him. You were right, --theLord has sent him to help us. I don't know how, I'm sure; but he is justthe man to help everywhere. "

And the circle instantly widened itself to receive Dr. Everett. 

It took almost no time to speak the commonplace of the occasion, andget back at once to the business of the hour. It was evident that Dr. Everett needed no lengthy explanations, and there was apparently nothingbewildering to his mind in the plan. True, it was new to him, but heseemed to spring at once to the centre of their thoughts. His eyesglowed for a moment, and he said with peculiar emphasis:--

"Ried, when the son of man cometh, he will surely find _some_ faithon the earth!"

Then he gave himself to intensest listening and questioning, andpresently followed his questions with suggestions which showed thatunconventional ways of working were not altogether new to him. 

As for Gracie, she had as much as she could do to listen intelligently;she almost caught her breath over the rapidity with which the talkersmoved from one scheme to another. All the time there was a curiousprocess of comparison between this man and Professor Ellis going on inher mind. Not that she wished to compare the two! She told herself thatit was absurd to do so; none the less she did it. For instance, shereminded herself that she had mentally assented promptly to thesuggestion of inviting the doctor to this room to talk this strangescheme over; she had recognized the fitness of the act. But supposeProfessor Ellis should call, would it not be simply absurd to think ofexplaining to him the uses of this unique room? Who would for a momentthink of suggesting his name as a helper?

 * * * * *

I do not know how to describe to you the appearance of that room onMonday evening when the boys were in it. I do not know whether the sightto you would have been pitiful or ludicrous. How can I tell--not knowingyou? There was a dreadful incongruity between the soiled, ragged clothesand matted hair and unwashed hands and the exquisite purity whichprevailed around them. Of course you could have seen that, but theall-important question, the answer to which would have stamped yourplace in the world's workshop, would have been, Do you see any furtherthan that? and seeing further--which way? Do you see the possibilities, or the certainties of failure? Oh, no, I am wrong; it would take morethan that to tell where you belong. Dr. Everett saw the possibilitiesand gloried in them. Gracie Dennis thought she saw the certainty offailure, and was sorry for it. But Professor Ellis would have seen thecertainty of failure, and would have met it with a sneer, if he had notbeen too indifferent even for that. As for Mrs. Roberts, did she, or didshe not, represent a different and higher type than any of the others?She thought not much about either success or failure, but pushedsteadily forward the plan that she believed she had gotten on her knees, born of the Spirit. If it really were of God, nothing could make itfail; but if she mistook, and the plan was only hers, mere failure inthat direction would signify nothing; she would have but to try again. Something of this she felt, but did not reason out, for she was nologician. 

What the boys saw was a great, splendid room, the like of which they hadnever seen before, for they recognized, without being able to explain, the difference between it and the parlors, and felt freer in it. Theyall came, and they looked not one whit better than on the Monday eveningbefore. Over this fact Gracie Dennis, with all her public scoffing, was, in private, a little disappointed. It is true she had not expected tosee them again; but if they came, she thought it possible that theymight have been tempted to appear with clean hands and faces. Possiblysome were so tempted, and but for the difficulties in the way, mightreally have tried for this. But Gracie was not sufficiently enlightenedto dream of difficulties in the way of simply washing one's face andhands. 

During the Saturday evening conference it had been decided that Mr. Roberts must make acquaintance with his guests. It would never do tohave them come familiarly to his house, and he not be able to recognizethem on the streets. Several plans were suggested for introducing himskilfully to them, but he disapproved of them all. 

"No, " he said, "I'll tell you what we'll do. I will introduce myself. You may receive them, Flossy, and then retire for a few minutes, andI'll let myself in by the conservatory passage, and make myselfacquainted to the best of my abilities. In ten minutes, Flossy, I'llgive you leave to return. As for the rest of you, don't dare to venturein until I have made good my claim as the head of the house. I amjealous of you, perhaps. "

To this plan Mrs. Roberts readily assented, but the young clerk lookeddoubtful. In common with the rest of his employees, he stood inwholesome awe of the keen-eyed, thorough business man, who seemed toknow, as by a sort of instinct, when anything in any department of thegreat store was not moving according to rule. His knowledge of Mr. Roberts, outside of the store, was limited, and he expected to find theboys, if not frightened, so awed that they would resolve never to becaught inside that room again. 

However, he of course only looked his fears. He was too much afraid ofthe great merchant to express them, and it had been understood, whenthey separated, that this plan was to be carried out. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"I WONDER WHAT THEY'RE ALL AFTER!"

In the library waited Gracie and Mr. Ried, while Mrs. Roberts wentmerrily to see whether the boys or their host had proved the stronger. 

"I don't believe this part of the programme will work, " Alfred said, confidently, the moment the door closed after Mrs. Roberts. "Thosefellows will all be afraid of Mr. Roberts, and we shall lose what littlehold we have on them. "

"They don't look to me as though it ever occurred to them to be afraidof anything, " Gracie said; but Alfred Ried, who had studied deeper intothis problem of the different classes of society, was ready with hisanswer. 

"Yes they are; they can be awed, and made to feel uncomfortable to thedegree that they will resolve not to appear in that region again. One cannot judge from their behavior in Sabbath-school. Some way theyrecognize a mission school as being in a sense their property, andbehave accordingly; but in a man's own house, surrounded by things ofwhich they do not even know the name, he has them at a disadvantage, andcan easily rouse within them the feeling that they are 'trapped. ' Thanwhich there is nothing those fellows dread so much, I believe. "

"But they were not afraid of Flossy last week, even surrounded by theelegances of her parlors and dining-room. "

"Ah!" he said, his eyes alight, "she has a wisdom born of God, I think, for managing these and all other concerns. She is unlike everybodyelse. "

Whereupon Gracie Dennis laughed; not a disagreeable laugh, but therecame to her just then a sense of the strangeness of thinking that prettyFlossy Shipley, whom she had known all her life, and half-scorned fromthe heights of her childhood because she was a silly little thing, whocould not do her problems in class, should have a wisdom unlike anyothers. Yet, almost immediately her laugh was stayed, because the changein Flossy was so great that she, too, recognized it as born of God. Sometimes it came with force to this proud young girl that if God coulddo so much for Flossy, what might he not be willing to do with thosewhom he had made intellectually her superior, if they were but ready tobe led?

The young man, who was studying her, watched the grave look deepen onher face, and wondered at its source. What a pretty face it was. Oh, much more than pretty; there was great strength in it and sweetness, too, of a certain sort, but he could not help comparing the sort withthat in some other faces, and he wondered over the difference. Thisyoung lady was a Christian. Why should her Christian experience stampher with such a different expression from that which others wore? Healways finished this sort of sentence with a blank space first, asthough he did not choose to have himself tell himself any names. Yet hespoke a name forcibly enough, still gazing earnestly at Gracie. 

"Did you ever meet Miss Joy Saunders?"

Gracie turned toward him a laughing face. 

"No, but we are very anxious to, Flossy and I. We have both been toldthat we ought to know her, and told so earnestly that we really thinkwe ought. Who is she? Is she, too, unlike anybody else?"

"Very, " he said, promptly. "I know her very little; she is the daughterof our landlady; I meet her in the hall on rare occasions, and sometimescatch glimpses of her just vanishing from some room as I enter; but asfor being acquainted with her, I suppose I am not. I think--though ofthat I am by no means sure--that she is engaged to Dr. Everett. 

"Oh, then, of course he would think naturally that people ought to knowher. What is she like?"

"Like nothing, " said Alfred, with great promptness. "Did you ever know aperson named Joy?"

"No;--what a singular name. "

"Well, it fits. She is very far removed from mirth, and she is not whatpeople call gay, and she is not outspoken apparently at any time, though, as I say, I do not know her; but there is something in her facethat fits the name; I do not know what it is. Sometimes I think it isthe shining of Christ's face reflected in her; but the puzzle is, why donot other faces have it? Faces which belong to him?"

"Perhaps there is a difference in the degree of belonging. "

Gracie spoke the words very gently, wondering meanwhile at the way inwhich this thought chimed in with hers about Flossy. 

"Oh, there is. But why should there be? If I belong to Christ, I_belong_, don't I? There is no half-way service possible. Why do Inot so look that others take knowledge of me that I have been withJesus?"

"How do you know but they do?"

"Ah, I know. I know too well. They are more likely a great deal to takeknowledge that I have been with Satan. I feel the frown all over my facea great deal of the time; and the world goes astray a great many times, when I suppose it is just myself that is wrong. But, Miss Dennis, Ihunger for the shining of his face in me. "

"That must be the meaning of the beatitude which puzzled my childhood, "she answered trying to speak lightly, to hide feelings that were deeplymoved: "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. "

"Thank you, " he said, smiling; "there is actually a promise! I had notthought of it. And yet"--the thoughtful frown gathering almostimmediately--"do you suppose that a person who really hungered for acertain thing could be satisfied with anything else? I often have anhour of what at the moment seems to me like hunger for Him, but the hourpasses, and I get filled--with business, or with plans, or possibly withannoyances, and feel nothing but a general irritation for everybody. Doyou think there can be anything genuine about such desires, so easilyturned aside?"

"Oh, I do not know, " said Gracie, hastily. "Why do you ask me suchthings? Did not I tell you I was not good? Ask those people who areunlike all others. Why don't you ask this Joy? She could tell you, Ipresume. I can tell you nothing, save that this is a very strange world, not half so nice as I once thought it, and I don't like to think aboutthings. "

How _different_ he was from other young men with whom she had spentfifteen minutes many a time in gay banter! This was, after all, thethought uppermost in her mind at the moment. Nice Christian men, of whomher father spoke well, and who, people said, were young men to be proudof. It seemed to her that she knew them by the dozens, yet with whichone of them had she ever carried on such a conversation as this? Withwhich one could she have attempted any thing of the kind, withoutleading him to suppose that she was taking leave of her senses?

She recalled some of the gay words that she had spoken with theseothers, and tried, hurriedly, to decide why it would sound to herperfectly absurd to talk with Alfred Ried in that way. However, she didnot want to talk with him; he was too full of questionings. "Andquestions, " said poor Gracie, "are all that I can ask myself. I wantsomebody to talk with who is assured of the ground on which he stands, and can tell me why he stands there. "

There was not time for further talk--they were summoned to the new room. Bursts of laughter greeted their ears as they made their way eagerlyacross the hall, and Gracie took time to remark that the boys werecertainly not awed into silence, before the opening door let them intothe brightly-lighted scene. Every boy was laughing, not quietly, butimmoderately, and the centre of attraction was evidently Mr. Roberts. 

"I have been giving our friends an account of an old army experience, "he said, in explanation to Gracie, "and we have been enjoying a laughtogether over the old memory. You are all acquainted with Miss Dennis, Ithink, young gentlemen?"

Clearly there was no need for any one to introduce Mr. Roberts to theboys; apparently they knew him now better than they did any of theothers. Yet as Gracie, after shaking hands with each of the guests, tooka vacant seat by Nimble Dick, she was greeted with a confidentialwhisper:--

"That's a jolly chap as ever I saw; and I never heard anything to beatthe yarn he told us, for cuteness. Who is he?"

"Why, he is Mr. Evan Roberts, the owner of this house. "

"My eyes!" said Dick, gazing about him in a startled way. "Look here; heain't that Roberts from the big store on Fourth Street?"

"Yes, he is; he is one of the partners in that store. "

Then did Nimble Dick give a low whistle, --suddenly cut short, as theother boys looked at him, --and sat up straight in his chair, and for atleast a minute was awed; or else was bewildered. If his mind could havebeen looked into for a moment something like this might have been seenthere: "And here I am sittin' in one of his chairs, and been laughin' tokill over his funny story! If this ain't the greatest lark out! Iwonder what they're all after, anyhow!"

Then the real business of the evening commenced. 

I should like to describe that evening; but it is really worse todescribe than the boys. It was designed to be one of those mostdifficult evenings, where every act and almost every word has beenpreviously arranged, but arranged in such a manner as to appear like animpromptu effort, the result of merely the happenings of the hour. 

For instance, Mrs. Roberts aimed at nothing less formidable than theteaching of these boys to read and write; and know as well as ever Iknow it, that to frankly own that she was ready and willing to give hertime and patience in so teaching them would be to outwit herself. Theydid not belong to the class who can be beguiled into evening schools. There are such; Mark Calkins would have seized such an opportunityand rejoiced over it, but these were lower in the scale; they didnot realize their need, and they had what they in ignorance called"independence"; they were not to be "trapped" by evening schools. Therefore it required diplomacy; and no people can be more diplomatic, on occasion, than certain most innocent-looking little women. Mrs. Roberts had studied her way step by step. 

Therefore it was, that by the most natural passage possible, she ledthe way to a discussion of different styles of writing, bringing forthto aid her a certain old autograph album which had been to many placesof note, among others Chautauqua, and had the names of distinguishedpersons, as well as of many who were not distinguished, except forChristian endurance in consenting to write in an autograph album. Goodwriters were talked about and selected, and poor writers were talkedabout, and it was said by some one, accidentally of course, that a goodhand was really an accomplishment. 

"It is more than that!" declared Mr. Roberts. "A man's business lifeoften turns on it. I have myself had to turn away from several otherwisesuitable helpers in our business because they really could not write agood, clear hand, that could be read without studying. "

"Are you a good writer, Miss Gracie?"

This remark, coming suddenly to Gracie from her host, almost embarrassedher, for you are not to suppose that the very words by which thesethemes should be introduced had been planned, and it had not occurred toGracie that so personal a question might be asked her. But she ralliedquickly. 

"No, sir; I am sorry to say that I am not. I write what papa calls amincing hand; all jumbled up together, you know, or running into eachother, the letters are, and so difficult to read that papa said when Icame away he hoped I would call on his friend, Dr. Stuart, every day, and write a letter on his type-writer. "

"What is that?" interrupted Nimble Dick, his face curious. 

"What? A type-writer? Oh, it is a strange little machine used instead ofthe pen--at least, a very few people use it. It is quite new, I think, and must be very curious. I never saw one, but the writing looks justlike print. Dr. Stuart, a pastor in the city, is my papa's friend, andwrites to him on his, and papa reads the letter with great satisfaction, saying to me, 'There, daughter, that is something like! People whocannot write well enough for others to read should print. '"

"They are not so very uncommon, Miss Dennis, " explained Dr. Everett, whosaw the eagerness on Nimble Dick's face. "It is a comparatively newinvention, but is being caught up very promptly. I think nearly all theleading lawyers use them, and those who do not own them are gettingtheir copying done at the rooms. They are very ingenious littleinstruments. "

"Did you say you never saw one?"

This question from Mr. Roberts to Gracie, and he added:--

"Mrs. Roberts, I believe you have never had other than the first glimpseI showed you in the Parker Building. I have an idea. Suppose I rent oneof the little fellows to interest us? It would be pleasant to look intoit and see how it works. Did none of you ever see one? Well, now, we'lltry for that on next Monday evening. I'll have one sent up to-morrow, and, Miss Gracie, we'll appoint you showman for the following Monday; soit is to be hoped that you will employ your leisure in learning how tomanage the creature, and perhaps send your father a readable letter atthe same time. "

Now, as may readily be supposed, all this about machinery had not beenarranged for beforehand, but was a side issue, born of the fact that thewatchful servant of his Master saw an eager look in the eyes of the boyDick directly there was anything said that suggested machinery. One ofthe great aims of these evenings was to study character, howeverdeveloped. 

Having turned his company from the regular channel, Mr. Roberts madehaste to put them skilfully back where they were before:--

"Still, it would be a pity to resort to machinery simply because one didnot know how to write well. I would rather set to work to correct theerror. I happen to know one of our number who can write a very enviablehand. Do you know, Ried, that the letter you wrote me was the firstthing which attracted me to you? I remember I showed the note to one ofour senior partners, who was particularly disturbed by poor writing, andhe said: 'Engage him, Roberts, do! A young man who can write like thatwill be a relief. ' Mrs. Roberts, I move you that we resolve ourselves atthis moment into a writing-class, to be taught by Mr. Ried. My dear sir, will you take us in hand?"

Something of this kind had been planned--at least, it had been plannedthat Ried should be asked to do this thing; but he found the actualasking embarrassing, and struggled with it with flushing cheeks. Graciecame to his aid:--

"I don't know whether I'll take lessons or not. Who wants to exposeone's ignorance? Will you teach? Must we each give a specimen of ourpresent attainments?"

Instantly Ried divined the reason for the question. 

"No, " he said, eagerly; "oh, no; I should begin with those horrors ofyour childhood, pothooks or something of that sort; lines and curves, you know. There are not many of them after all in our letters, and whenonce a person has conquered them it is easy to put them together. "

There was more talk, easy and social. Mr. And Mrs. Roberts, the doctor, and Gracie seemed equally interested in the project, and questionedyoung Ried, until he assured them that he began to feel like a veritableprofessor. Apparently the boys were forgotten. This very fact put themat their ease, and they listened, interested and amused over the thoughtthat these ladies and gentlemen wanted to go to school!

At first I do not think it occurred to one of them that he was includedin the proposal to form an writing-class. 

How was it done? I am not sure that any one of the eager group ofworkers could have told you afterward, so excited did they become overthis first scheme. Nobody could remember just what words were said, norwho said them, nor whether the boys all looked equally startled whenpaper and pen were put into each hand. They remembered that some shooktheir heads emphatically, and that Nimble Dick spoke plainly: "No youdon't! I can't write any more than a duck can, and I never expect to. "Mrs. Roberts knew that Dirk Colson's dark face turned a fierce red, andhe snapped the offered pen half-way across the table with his indignantthumb and finger. But of these words and acts nobody apparently took anynotice. The writing began, and the first marks given as copies were sosimple, looked so easy to do, and the attempts of the ladies andgentlemen fell so far short of what the teacher desired, and were sounmercifully criticised by him, and the criticisms were so merrilyreceived by the writers, that at last the whole thing took the form ofa joke to Nimble Dick's mind, and he became possessed with a burningdesire to try. One by one the boys stealthily followed his example;Alfred taking care to watch eagerly, to commend both Stephen Crowleyand Gracie Dennis in the same breath for some true stroke, and criticiseboth Mrs. Roberts and Nimble Dick for not holding the pen aright. 

The entire party became so interested that only Mrs. Roberts knew justwhen Dirk Colson stealthily filliped back his pen from the distance towhich it had been rolled, and, sitting upright that he might attract theless notice, tried his hand on the curve which was giving even Dr. Everett trouble. 

When the young teacher discovered it he made also another discovery, which he proclaimed:--

"Upon my word, I beg the pardon of each of you, but Colson here has madethe only respectable _R_-curve there is in the company. "

Then if his sister Mart had seen the glow on Dirk's face, I am not surethat she would have known him. There was a momentary transformation. 

As for Mrs. Roberts, she bowed low over the letter she was carefullyforming, but it was to say in soft whisper heard by one ear alone:--

"Thank God!"

CHAPTER XVIII. 

"YOURN'S THE WAY!"

You are not to suppose, because this first Monday evening (which, by theway, was concluded with sandwiches and coffee) was a success, pronouncedso by all concerned, that therefore the ones which followed were allrose-color. 

Fortunately, not one of the workers expected this, and so were brave andcheerful under drawbacks. 

These were numerous and varied. 

After the first novelty wore off, it took at times only the most trivialexcuses to keep the boys away. Sometimes when they called their conductwas anything but encouraging. They lolled in the easy-chairs, smellingstrongly of tobacco and other bar-room odors, refused insolently toapply themselves to any work at hand, audibly pronounced the whole thing"slow, " and in numberless ways severely tried the patience of bothAlfred and Gracie. 

For the others, they had counted the cost, --at least the gentlemenhad, --and expected to move slowly, even to appear to go backward someof the time. As for Mrs. Roberts, I have told you that she worked ina peculiar manner, with the motto, "This one thing I do, " apparentlyever before her. 

Each evening was distinct in itself, with efforts to make and obstaclesto overcome; and at its close she had a way of laying it aside, assomething with which her part was done, not attempting even to calculateresults; then she was ready to turn to a new day, and work steadily forthat. 

The winter was slipping away and Gracie Dennis lingered. She couldhardly have told you why, yet there were many apparent reasons. Mrs. Roberts wanted her, rejoiced in her, and coaxed irresistibly as often asthe thought of going home was mentioned. Then Gracie, laugh over thepeculiar work going on as she might, was undeniably interested in thoseboys. She was working for them, therefore of course she was interested. 

"I don't see how you can go this week?" would young Ried say to her, with a perplexed air; "you know we have that matter all planned for nextMonday evening. How can we carry out the scheme if you are not there todo your part?"

Then would Gracie laugh and demur and admit, to herself only, that itwas very pleasant to be needed--as she certainly was--for one nightmore; and so the nights passed. 

Her work was to be "Professor of Elocution, " as Mr. Roberts gaily calledher when the workers were alone together. It had been discovered thatshe could read both prose and poetry with effect. So a reading-class wasorganized, and they chose for the first evening, not one of Bryant's orWhittier's gems, nor selections from Milton or Shakespeare, which wouldhave suited part of the company, nor yet the "Easy Readings" in somestandard spelling-book, which would have fitted the capacity of theothers, but with great care and much discussion, one of Will Carleton'sdescriptive poems, full of homely, yet tender language, full of pathosand of humor, was unanimously selected. 

The first evening reading had been commenced with nuts and apples. Thereare those who can see no connection between this and the intellectual;happily for the characters with whom she had to deal, Mrs. Roberts wasnot one of them. While the others were still enjoying the refreshmentsshe took the book and read. This was her quiet little sacrifice. It wasnot pleasant to her to become a public reader. It required courage toget through with one verse, with Dr. Everett sitting opposite, andGracie Dennis on a low seat at her side, and her husband listeningintently. Mrs. Roberts was not a good reader, and was aware of it. Shepronounced the words correctly, it is true; but when you had said that, you had said all that there was to offer in praise of her effort. Shehad some exasperating faults. But she bravely read the two verses, andsome of the boys listened, and one of them laughed; he had caught agleam of the fun in the poem. This, of course, was Nimble Dick. 

Then Alfred Ried made the same effort on the same verses; hisperformance was very little better, and he, too, knew it. He couldwrite, but he was by no means a public reader; this was his offering tothe general good. If those fellows, by reason of his mistakes, could beinduced to climb, he was willing to offer his pride on the altar. Nomatter by what petty trials they were caught so that they were reallycaught. 

Then followed Gracie Dennis, and her own father, acceptable preacherthough he was, might with credit to himself have taken lessons of her. She was certainly, for one so young and so unprofessional, a magnificentreader. So indeed was Marion Wilbur, and she had enjoyed teachingGracie. 

The poem blossomed in her hand. The crunching of nuts and applesentirely ceased. The boys sat erect and listened and laughed and flushedand swallowed suspiciously over some of the homely pathos. They hadnever heard anything like that before, and they evidently appreciatedit. She read through to the end. 

Then were unloosed the tongues! They exclaimed in delight:--

"What an accomplishment it is!" said Mr. Roberts; "and how few possessit. Doctor, how many really fine readers have you heard in your life?"

"About three, " said the doctor, laconically. 

"Well, " said Mrs. Roberts, "let us all be exceptions. Gracie, teach ushow. I will try again. "

And she did, on the first verse of the poem; with better success thanbefore; but how sharp the contrast between her reading and Gracie's, sheknew! It was not easy for her to read. 

I don't know, possibly I am mistaken, but it seems to me that I haveknown people ready for large sacrifices, who yet would shrink painfullyfrom these little ones. 

In discussing the programme for the evening, the question had been, wheneach had done his part, How were they to influence the boys to join?_Could_ they join? Was it probable that they knew enough aboutreading to attempt to speak the words of the poem? With reference tothis obstacle a poem had been chosen full of simple, homely words, suchas are in common use; especially was the first verse free from what Mr. Roberts called "shoals. " Having heard the verse read several times, itwas hoped that some one of the seven might have courage to attempt it, but Gracie did not believe that such would be the case. 

"I don't see how we can ask them, and do it naturally, " said Dr. Everett. "It is such an unheard-of thing, you know; and I am afraid, doour best, it will present itself to them as a patronage, and that willbe fatal. The people who are low enough to need patronage are the veryones who won't endure it. "

Whereupon various ways of managing the matter were discussed anddiscarded; suddenly Mrs. Roberts turned to her young lieutenant, who hadbeen silent for some time, and said:--

"What are you thinking of, Mr. Ried? Do you see a way out?"

"No, " he said; "I have neither knowledge nor skill in such matters, butmy thoughts just then were far away; I was thinking how curiously, certain apparently trivial instances of one's childhood will stand outwith almost startling prominence. "

"What sent you off in that direction?" questioned Dr. Everett. "Theremust have been an association of ideas. "

"Oh, there was; I was thinking how vividly I remembered a discussionbetween my mother and my sister, younger than Ester, in regard to somematter which perplexed them; and when they could come to no satisfactoryconclusion they appealed to my sister Ester, who was resting as usual onher lounge. I can seem to hear her voice as she said: 'We haven't to doanything about it until to-morrow; perhaps to-morrow will have a light ofits own for our direction. "

"Thank you!" Mrs. Roberts said, her eyes lighting with an appreciativesmile; "we have not to do anything about this until Monday night, andperhaps Monday night will see us wise. "

I don't know how many thought of this little conversation when Mondayevening came, but certainly Alfred Ried and Mrs. Roberts did, for sheglanced at him and smiled significantly when Dr. Everett, havingapparently forgotten that anything beyond their own pleasure was incontemplation, challenged Gracie to a discussion as to the emphasis on acertain word in the second line; he had never heard it so read, and hecalled for an analysis that would sustain the reading, and received it, and was not yet prepared to yield the point, but read the verse as hehad imagined it should be read, and then Gracie, at Mr. Roberts' call, repeated it with her rendering, and I am not sure but all partiesconcerned actually forgot their final object in the interest of thediscussion until they were suddenly called to it by an interruptingvoice:--

"Your'n's the way, " it said, with an emphatic nod of a shock of mattedhair, "your'n's the way. "

It was Dirk Colson. He had forgotten for the moment that anybody waslistening to him, save the two readers. He was looking directly atGracie, and the nods were evidently intended for her. 

"Of course it is!" she said, eagerly, her face flushing with a triumphthat had nothing to do with the right emphasis; "you read it, won't you, and show these people that we are right?"

Afterward Mrs. Roberts confessed that she involuntarily placed her handon her heart with a dim idea of hushing its beating lest others wouldhear, so important to her did the moment seem. Dr. Everett lookeddismayed. The least hopeful one of the seven seemed Dirk. None of themknew of his dangerous talent for imitation. None of them believed thathe would make any attempt at reading, but thought he would shrink intodeeper sullenness. All of them were mistaken. He reached for the book, glanced for a moment over the lines, and then read the verse, with socomplete an imitation of Gracie Dennis, and yet with a voice and mannerthat so fitted the homely words and the homely scene described that theeffect was actually better than when Gracie read. 

Instinctively the cultured portion of his audience greeted the effortwith a clapping of hands. The blood, meantime, rolled in dark waves overDirk's face. He had been cheered before. None of his present applauderscould imagine what a set had often clapped their hands over hissuccessful imitations; but Dirk, who liked applause as well as otherhuman beings do, had never, in his wildest stretches of imagination, placed himself before such people as listened now and received theirapproval. 

Great was the excitement and satisfaction. The six companions, far fromfeeling any emotion of jealousy, seemed greatly elated, believing thatone of their number had made a "hit, " and increased their importance. 

No one else could be found to attempt the verse. Nimble Dick shook hishead good-naturedly, and declared that he would rather "undertake to runan engine to Californy" than try it; and the others were of like mind. Then came Gracie to the front again:--

"I'll tell you what you must all do. I have been experimenting with thattype-writer, Mr. Roberts, all the week. You know it will manifold, withthe use of carbon paper, and it chances that when I was seized with adesire to try its powers in that direction I choose this very verse tocopy; so I have fifteen good copies in print. You must each take a copyand make this verse a study until next Monday; then I shall challengeyou all to sustain me in my reading. "

This proposition was hailed with such satisfaction by the older membersthat it immediately became popular, and each boy received his copymechanically and gazed at it curiously: but Dirk Colson's thoughts wereturned in a new channel. 

"Look here!" he said, detaining Gracie by an imperious inclination ofhis head, as she handed him the copy; "how did you make these? didn'tyou print them fifteen times? I didn't understand what you said. "

"Why no!" said Gracie, "the machine will _manifold_. I'll show you;come over to the end window; it stands there waiting to be displayed, and it is a little wonder. "

Then they crowded around the type-writer, and Gracie, really proud ofthe skill she had acquired in a week's time, showed off the littlewonder to great advantage. 

The fact that the type-writer was new to most of the others, that theywere decidedly ignorant as to its working, increased the comfort of thehour by doing away with the embarrassing feeling that any one of themwas playing a part. Dr. Everett was no more familiar with thetype-writer than was Dirk Colson, and was just as eager to know aboutit. 

Also everybody, apparently, felt an equally strong desire to write hisname on the marvellous little creature, and each in turn sat down beforeit and moved his awkward hands with nearly equal slowness over the keys, picking out the magic letters. 

It was this episode that made the workers during their next conferencebranch out in new lines. 

"We need something, " said Dr. Everett, walking up and down the floor inpuzzled thought, "we need something that shall be a genuine commoninterest, of which we are all, or all but one, equally ignorant--somethingthat we can take hold of with zest, on as low a platform as the mostignorant of those seen. I was convinced of that when I saw the abandonwith which we all went into the type-writer business, with a naturalnessand equality that, in the matter of reading and writing, it is impossiblefor us to feel. If the machine were complicated, so that it would take useach three months or so to master it, that would do. What can we take upthat will place us on a level?"

CHAPTER XIX. 

"WE HAVE BEGUN BACKWARDS. "

"Well, " said Mr. Ried, "we should want to have one of our number not 'ona level. ' How would it do to appoint you, sir, to give us a few lecturesin Hygiene? Popular lectures about air and exercise and ventilation andbathing, and all sorts of every-day topics, about which people areignorant. "

"That's a capital idea, Ried. Those fellows could certainly be benefitedby a little attention to such questions; and I'm sure the rest of uswould like to hear of the principles which govern these important laws. Such lectures put into popular form are decidedly interesting, I think. Let us vote for them. " This was Mr. Roberts' hearty seconding. 

But the doctor laughed. 

"There is a ludicrous side to it which you do not see, " he said. "Imagine me holding forth on the importance of ventilation, forinstance, to a poor follow who comes from a region where father andmother, and a horde of children of both sexes and all ages, crowdtogether in one room, and that a cellar, where the sun never penetratesand the air that crawls in through the one small window is reeking witheven more impurities than can be found inside. Or talking about bathing, to the poor wretches who have no clothing to change, and barely waterenough, by carrying it long distances, to satisfy their most pressingneeds! Still, Ried, I'm not quarrelling with your idea. There is asensible side to it; there are things that I could tell even those boyswhich might interest them, and would certainly be to their advantage toknow. The subject is one which can be popularized to suit even such anaudience. I'll try for it occasionally if it shall seem best: but itdoesn't meet my demand. I want us all on a platform where we shall startin equal ignorance and get on together. Of course you are all more orless familiar with all the facts that I should have to present, and theboys would know it. They are sharp fellows; it wouldn't take them anhour to discover that we were fishing for them; and if there is any onething on which they are at present determined, it is, probably, thatthey will not be benefited. What is there that one of us knows, of whichthe others are ignorant? French won't do, for Miss Dennis is acquaintedwith that language, I think, and so are you, Ried, are you not?"

"Well, I can stammer through a few sentences. I don't speak it like anative as you do. "

At this revelation a vivid blush glowed on Gracie Dennis' cheek. Sheremembered Professor Ellis' comments in French. Then the doctor hadunderstood, though his face was so imperturbable! What could he havethought of the courtesy of her guest?

Meantime Mr. Ried wore a perplexed face. 

"You are right, " he said to the doctor; "we are not enough on a level; Ifelt our advantage last night when Miss Dennis was explaining thetype-writer; but I don't see the way clear. What subject is there onwhich all but one of us could meet on common ground, and that one couldturn professor?"

Here interposed Mr. Roberts, speaking in a meek tone of voice:--

"If I were not a modest man I should venture a suggestion; as it is, Ireally don't know what to do. "

The doctor turned to him quickly:--

"Out with it, man; if you are master of a profession or a trade or atheory unknown to the rest of us, you are bound on your honor as amember of this unique organization to present it. "

At the same moment Mrs. Roberts came to his aid. 

"Oh, Evan, teach us short-hand!"

Whereupon Mr. Roberts heaved what was intended to appear as a relievedsigh, and announced that his modesty was preserved. 

Upon this suggestion they seized with eagerness; not one of them knewanything about phonetic writing save Mr. Roberts, and he was master ofthe art. 

"It is the very thing!" the doctor said, with heartiness. "I should likeexceedingly to learn it, and Ried and the ladies may be able to make ituseful in a hundred ways; and as for the seven, if they really masterit, it may be the foundation of a fortune for some of them. "

So, without more ado, it was planned that at the very next Mondayevening the subject should be skilfully presented, its importance andits fascinations discussed, and the boys be beguiled into taking a firstlesson, sandwiched in between the all-important reading and writinglessons. 

Alas for plans! On the very next Monday the conspirators, with theexception of young Ried, were together by seven o'clock. The faint aromaof coffee floated through the room. A fruit-basket filled with orangesoccupied a conspicuous table, and everything waited for the guests. 

While they waited, instead of enjoying themselves as the four werecertainly capable of doing, they were noticeably restless; listened forthe shuffling of careless feet on the steps, and the sound of unculturedvoices in the hall, and waited expectantly whenever the bell pealed, only to be obliged to send word to some caller that "Mr. And Mrs. Roberts were engaged. "

The special occupation of the four seemed to be to look at their watchesand to remark that the doctor's was a trifle fast, and to wonder ifhalf-past seven would be a more suitable hour for the boys, and towonder what could be detaining Ried. 

At last it was half-past seven, and then it was fifteen minutes ofeight, and then it was ten minutes of eight! And then the door-bell rangagain. It was Ried, and he was alone! One glance at his distressed facetold the lookers-on that something was amiss, even before heexclaimed:--

"You won't see a boy to-night!"

"Why?" "What is the trouble?" "Where are they?"

These were the various ways of putting the same question. 

"One of the McCullum partners has become interested in the boys, itseems, and has concluded that he will try what he can do towards theirelevation; so he has commenced by presenting each one of them with aticket to the Green Street Theatre, and there they are at this moment!"

This startling intelligence was variously received. Dr. Everettexclaimed:--

"Is it possible?"

Gracie Dennis remarked that it was something like what she had expected;Mrs. Roberts said not a word, and Mr. Roberts added to the astonishmentof the moment by bursting into a laugh. 

Poor Ried seemed to feel the laugh more than anything; his face gatheredinto heavier clouds than before, he bit his lip to hold back the vexedwords that were just ready to burst forth, and strode almost angrily tothe further corner of the room. 

An embarrassed silence seemed to fall upon the others. At least Graciefelt embarrassed; the doctor looked simply expectant. 

At last Mr. Roberts drew himself up from his lounging attitude and brokeinto the stillness. 

"Ah, now, good people, don't let us make serious mistakes! Come backhere, my dear young brother, and let us look this thing in the face, andtalk it over calmly. Are we children playing at benevolence that at thefirst discouragement we should cry out, 'All is lost!' and retirevanquished? Come, I laughed because really this does not seem such aserious matter to me as it seems to present to the rest of you. 

"What did we expect? Here are seven boys, right from the gutters;somehow we have had them laid on our hearts, and have enlisted to helpfight the battle that is going on about them in this world. Christ diedto save them, and Satan means that the sacrifice shall be in vain. He isbringing all his powers to bear on them; and he has many and variedpowers. 

"Here comes into the scene a man benevolently inclined; not a Christian, but in his way a philanthropist. By accident he has come in contact withone of the boys; by accident he learns that something--he does not knowquite what--is being attempted to benefit them. Can't you give him thecredit of being honest? The only thing he thinks of that he can do tohelp is to give them an evening's entertainment. At one of the decenttheatres there is being presented what seems to be known in theirparlance as a 'moral play!' So he presents each boy with a ticket. Now, what did we expect of those boys?

"Last week a lady and two gentleman who have been members of our churchfor years, left the regular prayer-meeting, and went to the Philharmonicconcert. 

"Ought we to expect that it would even occur to our seven boys to giveup what to them is a rare treat for the pleasure of spending an eveningwith us? As for the moral obligation, they have probably never so muchas heard the words. 

"Isn't it time we knew what we were about? What are we after? It is wellenough to teach the poor fellows to read and write, and to help liftthem up in other ways, but our efforts will amount to very little unlesswe succeed in bringing them to the great Lever of human society; unlessChrist take hold of this thing we shall fail. Now, has He taken hold? IsHe, at least, as much interested in them as we are? Is His Holy Spiritpreceding and supplementing all our efforts? And, if this is the case, is an evening at a theatre going to ruin His plans?"

Long before these earnest sentences were concluded Ried had returnedfrom his distant corner, and taken a seat near his employer; his eyeswere full of tears, and his voice trembled:--

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Roberts; I'm an ignorant blunderer; I did feelfor the moment as though everything were lost. "

"We have begun backwards, " said Mr. Roberts; "I was reading to-day thata mistake the missionaries made for years in trying to _civilize_ theGreenlanders; and what a perfect failure they made of it until one dayalmost by accident, a man began to tell them about Christ on the cross, and the story melted them. I don't think I have thought enough about Himin this matter. "

"I stand convicted, " Dr. Everett said; "I've made the same mistake, Ibelieve, in all my efforts for people. I have been praying for them, itis true; but, after all, I feel now as though there had been too muchrelying on human means, and not enough on God. It is a case of 'theseought ye to have done, and not to have left the other undone. '"

"Well, " said Mr. Roberts, looking at his watch, "we are in the samecondemnation; it is, I believe, the most common, and one of the mostfatal, mistakes that Christian workers make. But there is a way out. Weexpected to spend until ten o'clock with those boys. It is nearly ninenow; suppose we spend the next hour with Christ, asking for the power ofthe Holy Spirit on any and every effort that we may make for them in thefuture? Our ultimate aim is to bring every one of them to Jesus and Heknows it; now if we have gone about in the wrong way, we have only toask Him forgiveness and look to Him steadily for guidance. What do yousay, friends, shall we spend the hour in taking them to the only One whoreally can afford them lasting help?"

I suppose that He who "maketh the wrath of man to praise Him" is equallyable to manage the folly of man. Could the injudicious philanthropisthave looked into that room that evening, and heard the prayers that wentup to God for those boys, and understood something of the power ofprayer, he would have had one illustration of how God manages thefoolishness of men. 

It was a very earnest prayer-meeting. These workers had each one bowedin secret, and with more or less earnestness, asked for God's blessingon their efforts; but it occurred to them that evening, as a verystrange thing, that they had never unitedly prayed for this before. Therefore there was an element of confession in all the prayers thatmoved Gracie Dennis strangely. Especially was this the case when sheheard her old acquaintance, Flossy, pour out her soul's longings. Ithappened, so strange are the customs of Christians, that though this wasthe daughter of a minister of the gospel, herself a Christian, she hadnever before heard a lady pray in the presence of gentlemen. She hadheard of their doing so; heard them criticised with sharp sarcasm. Someof the criticisms which had sounded full of keenness and wit when sheheard them, recurred to her at this time, and some way, with Flossy'slow, earnest voice filling her heart, they dwindled into shallowness andcoarseness. All the same, their baneful influence was on her, and helpedto hold her back from opening her lips, for the critic had beenProfessor Ellis. 

When the hostess and her young guest were left alone together thatevening, the latter had a question to ask:--

"Flossy Shipley!"--the name you will remember which she always went backto when excited--"I didn't know you believed in praying in_public_! Have you changed in _everything_?"

"In public, my dear!" with a quiet smile; "why, I am in my own house!"

"Oh, yes; but you know what I mean--before gentlemen. Do you reallythink it is necessary?"

"As to that, Gracie, I don't believe I thought anything about it. Iwanted to pray for those boys, and so I prayed. "

"And didn't you really shrink from it at all? How very queer! Flossy, Ido believe nobody was ever so much changed by religion as you have been. I don't see what makes the difference. I'm sure I think I'm a Christian, but I could never do such a thing as that. "

"Not if you believed it to be your duty?"

"But I don't believe it, " said the fair logician, her face flushing; "Ithink it is out of place. I beg your pardon, Flossy, I don't mean Ithink it sounded badly in you; but only that for me it would be horrid, and I couldn't do it. "

"Then what are you talking about, my dear? If you should never considerit your duty, you would certainly never be called upon to do it. "

CHAPTER XX. 

"OH, WHAT A NICE THOUGHT!"

This very calm view of the question gave Gracie time to recover from herexcitement, and to laugh at her folly. Then Mrs. Roberts said, stillspeaking very gently:--

"I don't want to argue with you, dear, and I couldn't if I wished; youknow I am a dunce about all such things; but I just want to ask you alittle question; you need not answer me unless you choose; not now, thatis--perhaps some time we may want to talk about it. I would like to knowthe reasons that people have for thinking that it is out of place for alady to kneel down with her Christian friends and speak to Jesus about athing that they unitedly desire, and that they believe He is able to dofor them? If it is not proper to speak before them, why is it proper tospeak _to_ them on the same subject?"

This question Gracie carried to her room for thought. 

Meantime, as Dr. Everett and young Ried went homeward, they had a talktogether. 

"When I found out that those boys had gone to the theatre to-night I wascompletely discouraged, " declared Ried. "It seemed to me that our workwas a failure; I could almost see Satan laughing over the success of hisscheme. I never felt so about anything in my life. And now it seems tome that perhaps the Lord will let it result in being the best thing thatever happened to us. "

To all of which Dr. Everett made the apparently irrelevant answer:--

"Mr. Roberts and his wife are singularly well mated; how perfectly theyfit into each other's thoughts. Ried, you and I have a great deal tolearn from them. "

"I have, " said Ried, meekly. 

Yet another bit of talk closed this evening:

"McCullum has given me an idea, " Mr. Roberts said to his wife as theysat together reviewing the day. "Not a bad one, I fancy. I wonder whenwe can act on it and watch results? There are tickets for other placesbesides theatres. Why couldn't we furnish them for some entertainment, lecture, or concert, or something of the sort, that would be reallyhelpful? The only difficulty is that there are few helpful places as yetwithin reach of their capacities. It takes an exceptional genius to holdsuch listeners. "

But his wife, her face aglow, clasped her hands in an ecstasy ofdelight. 

"What a beautiful thought!" she said; "and how nice that it should cometo you just now, when there will be such a splendid opportunity to putit in practice. Why, don't you know? Gough, next week, fifty centtickets; on temperance, too! how grand! And Evan, let us give them eachtwo tickets. I want that Dirk Colson to take his sister; perhaps he willnot, but then he may; one can never tell. Oh, Evan, won't it be nice?"

"Ah!" said Mr. Roberts, "as usual you are ahead of me. I had not thoughtof the two tickets apiece. That is a suggestion for their manliness. Flossy, we'll try it. "

Yet another bit of talk. 

They shambled down the stairs, from the second-rate hall at a late hourthat evening--those seven boys; quiet for them, though the play had beenexciting, and not remarkably moral "viewed" from the standpoint of aChristian. 

"After all, " said Nimble Dick, breaking a silence with speech, asthough the subject of which he spoke had been under discussion amongthem, "after all, it was rather sneaking to bolt and say nothing; I kindof wish we hadn't done it. "

"That's what I told you all along, " said Dirk Colson, with even unusualsullenness, "but you would go and do it, and we was fools enough tofollow you. "

"And I'll bet she had oysters or something!" This from Jerry Tompkins;you have probably no idea how hungry he was at that moment. 

"They was goin' to do somethin' new to-night; that there Dennis girltold me so when I met her on the street yesterday; something that wewould like first rate, she said--a brand-new notion. " This was StephenCrowley's contribution to the general discomfort. 

"Well, " said Nimble Dick, and the sigh with which he spoke the wordwould have gone to Mrs. Roberts' heart, "I s'pose it's all up now; Ishouldn't wonder if we never got another bid; I wouldn't if I was them, I know that; and their old theatre wasn't no great shakes, after all. We've been a pack of fools, and I don't mind owning it. "

Whereupon, having reached the corner, they separated and went glumly totheir homes. And this is gratitude! What a pity Mr. McCullum--who hadbeen smiling over his benevolence all the evening--could not have heardthem!

The weeks that followed this night, were crowded with trifles on whichhung important and far-reaching results. This is a very trite saying, Iknow. All weeks are crowded with eventful trifles; at least, we in ourblindness call them trifles, although we are constantly discoveringtheir importance, and being constantly astonished over them. 

Among other things, the seven boys became nine, --having taken to theircompanionship two choice spirits, apparently worse than themselves, andappeared at the South End Mission with all the bravado that boys oftheir stamp are apt to put on when they feel somewhat ashamed ofthemselves. The consequence was that the trials which Mrs. Roberts hadto endure from them, though a trifle less apparent to others, were not awhit less distressing than usual. 

But before the session was concluded they were treated to a sensationthat held them in silent astonishment for nearly five minutes. Anyperson well acquainted with Alfred Ried could have told that he had aplan in view, and was trying to carry it in the face of some opposition. He looked convinced, and Mr. Durant looked astonished and troubled;there was much low-toned talk between them and some shaking of head. Apparently, however, Mr. Ried came off victor, for his brow cleared, andhe presently made his way to Mrs. Roberts' side and said a few words, and must have been gratified by the sudden lighting up of her face andher eager:--

"Oh, what a nice thought! Even if it fails, apparently, it will notutterly, for the suggestion will help them. "

In the course of time the new idea came to the front. There was to be afestival, or a social, or an entertainment at the South End in thecourse of a few weeks, --a sort of anniversary of the starting of theMission. Among other work that was in progress, the decoration of theroom, involving the hanging of pictures, banners, mottoes, wreaths, etc. , required some strong arms and willing hands. Committees were to beformed. Two weeks before, teachers had been appointed to prepare a listof committees. It fell to young Ried to appoint the committee ondecoration. When he was called upon for his report, he came promptlyforward, like a man ready for action, and commenced:--

"A committee of four has been deemed amply sufficient for decoration, and I appoint for the purpose the following: Richard Bolton, MorrisBurns, Miss Gracie Dennis, and Miss Annie Powell. "

The teachers, who had been long at the Mission, looked from one toanother with a bewildered air. Morris Burns they knew, --a clear-eyedyoung Scotchman, with willing hands and feet ever ready to run oferrands for all workers; a boy of nineteen or so, whom everybody liked;warm-hearted, unselfish, and thoroughly trustworthy. Annie Powell wasone of the older girls in Mr. Durant's Bible-class; a sweet-faced, ladylike little factory girl, who would work in with Morris Burnsnicely. Miss Gracie Dennis was Mrs. Roberts' beautiful young friend; allthe teachers knew her, and all thought it very kind in her to throw herstrength and taste into the preparations as heartily as though she wereone of them. But who was Richard Bolton? Nobody knew. Yet theirknowledge of business etiquette told them that he was chairman of theDecoration Committee. Where was he? Not a teacher, certainly, for theywere intimately acquainted with one another; and they knew no such namein the one Bible-class made up of trustworthy helpers. 

Over in Mrs. Roberts' class, with the single exception of the teacher, there was equal ignorance; the nine boys had stopped their restlessmischief to listen, because there is a sort of fascination to boys inall the details of well-managed business; they liked to hear theappointments; but who Richard Bolton might be seemed not to occur to oneof them. It is true that Jerry Tompkins nudged Nimble Dick in anythingbut a quiet way with his elbow, and murmured, "You've got a namesake itseem, in this 'ere job. " Yet no light dawned on them. 

Mr. Durant, who, it is possible, has not appeared to you in a favorablelight, for the reason that he was being much perplexed by the entirelynew methods being introduced among the boys who had heretofore drivenhim to the very verge of desperation, was really a quickwitted man, andhaving succumbed to what he feared was a wild experiment, knew how tohelp carry it out properly. He came briskly to the front, --Alfred'scommittee being the last on the list, --and began his work. 

"The chairmen of these different committees will be kind enough toreport to me as rapidly as possible the time and place of their firstmeeting for consultation, and I will make the announcements. " Then hestepped to Mrs. Roberts' class. "Bolton, " he said, bending toward thatastonished scamp, and speaking as though this were an every-day affair, "you are chairman, I believe, of the Decoration Committee; where andwhen will you have them meet?"

Imagine Nimble Dick's eyes! Nay, imagine the eyes and faces of theentire nine! It would have been a study for an artist. 

For a moment Nimble Dick was speechless; then he managed to burst forthwith:--

"What in thunder are you talking about?"

"Your committee, " said Mr. Durant, politely ignoring the manner of thequestioner. "You must call them together, you know, to plan your work. Where shall it be, and when?"

"I ain't got no committee; and I ain't got no place to meet nobody; andI don't know what in thunder you're after. "

Then came Mrs. Roberts to the rescue:--

"Why, Mr. Bolton, you can meet at our society parlor, you know; it isthe very place, and will be so convenient for Miss Dennis. "

"What's to meet, and what's to do?" said Dick, defiantly. "I ain't goingto meet nobody. "

"Why, it is just to hang mottoes and banners, and trim the room for theAnniversary. Of course you'll help; I would have the meeting arrangedthere by all means. "

"Very well, " said Mr. Durant, quickly, as though he had received theanswer from the chairman himself. "Now as to time; you ought to cometogether to-morrow evening if you could; there is a good deal to do. "

"Mr. Bolton, couldn't you come up at six o'clock for once? Then youcould get your work all done before the time for our social. I canarrange for Annie Powell to be there at that time; and, Mr. Durant, doesn't Morris Burns work for you? Could he be present at six o'clock?Then I don't see but your meeting is nicely planned. You can be there atsix, can't you, Mr. Bolton?"

"I tell you I don't know nothin' what you are talking about. "

Nimble Dick, who was rarely anything but good-natured, was surprised bythe bewilderments of the situation into being almost as fierce as DirkColson was habitually; the gaping amazement of his boon companionsseeming to add to his irritation. 

"But you will, " said his teacher, cheerily. "It is an easy matter toexplain; Miss Dennis knows all about such things; and I'm going to help, though they haven't honored me with an appointment. "

At a sign from the lady, Mr. Durant stepped back to his platform andannounced:--

"The chairman of the Committee on Decoration desires me to say that hiscommittee is called together to-morrow evening, at the Young Men'sSocial Parlors, No. 76 East Fifty-fifth Street, at six o'clock, _sharp_, as the chairman has another engagement at seven. "

"I had to coin a name for the place of meeting, " he said to Mrs. Robertsafterwards. "I beg your pardon if it was wrong; but Ried has been givingme glowing accounts of that room, and you said something about its beinga social parlor, didn't you?"

"It is a good name, " said Mrs. Roberts. "We have awkwardly called it the'new room. ' I am glad it is christened. I will have some curtains hungthrough the centre to-morrow, to make parlors instead of parlor of it; Ican see how a second room can be made useful in several ways. "

Thus was the bewildering committee willed into existence; the chairmanthereof being still so dumbfounded with his position that he did notrouse until the laughing boys, by whom he was surrounded, began to takein some of the fun of the situation, and to assault him right and leftwith mock congratulations, ill-suppressed groans, hisses, and the like. Then he turned towards them with new-born dignity that would have fittedDirk Colson, and said:--

"If you fellows don't shut up, and behave yourselves something likedecent for the rest of the time, I'll chaw half a dozen of you intomincemeat as soon as we are out of this!"

CHAPTER XXI. 

"HAD HIS EXPERIMENT BEEN TOO SEVERE?"

Dr. Everett was driving rapidly through the city; at least, as rapidlyas the crowded character of the street would permit. He was out onprofessional duty, and had just been congratulating himself that hisregular calls were now made for the day, and unless something specialintervened he should have a couple of hours free for the alleys. 

That meant professional duty, too, and of the very hardest character, one would suppose, as it brought him in contact not only with sicknessin some of its most repulsive forms, but with abject poverty as well, and too often with loathsome forms of sin; yet he went about this workwith a zest that his regular practice did not furnish. This wassomething done solely for Jesus' sake, and with an eye that wasmanifestly single to His glory. 

He had already selected his alley, and was planning how, when his horseswere safely stabled, he could make a cross-cut to it, when his eyes wereheld by two persons who were ascending together the stairway that led toone of the public halls. His face darkened as he watched them. Apparently they were engrossed with each other, and took no notice ofhim; but there were reasons why he specially desired to keep them inview. A network of carriages and wagons such as is common to crowdedthoroughfares blocked his path just then, and prolonged his opportunityto watch the two. 

They made their way in a very leisurely manner up the long staircase, letting others, more in haste, pass them continually; yet presently theyjoined the group who were passing up tickets of entrance. 

The doctor signalled a policeman, and entered into conversation:--

"What is going on in Seltzer Hall?"

"Well, sir, there's a kind of a concert, I guess. They play on goblets, they say--just common glass goblets--and make fine music. "

"An afternoon entertainment?"

"Yes, sir, as a kind of introduction, you know; they expect to get acrowd for evening by the means. "

"Do you know where tickets are to be had?"

The policeman indicated a bookstore at his left by a gesture from histhumb, and said, "Right here, " and offered to secure some at once. Heknew Dr. Everett; many of the policemen did. 

His offer was accepted with thanks, and the doctor presently wound hisway out from the network with two green tickets in his pocket. His plansfor the afternoon had been suddenly changed. Instead of spending thetime in Sewell alley, he had decided to attend a musical exhibition, theinstruments being goblets!

He must make all speed now, so he left the crowded street and dodgedthrough several byways to the stables. 

No use to keep his horses. "She would be afraid to drive through suchcrowds, " he explained to himself, "and I should be afraid to leave thecarriage standing. "

Rushing out from the stables he caught just the right street-car, andin a short space of time was ringing at Mr. Roberts' door. 

Gracie Dennis was in the hall, dressed for the street. 

"Ah, " said the doctor, "I am either fortunate or unfortunate, I wonderwhich? I had set my heart on having you for a companion to what I fancymay be a unique entertainment. Is there another engagement in the way?I know this is a most unconventional method, but a doctor is never sureof his time. "

But Gracie Dennis felt too well acquainted with Dr. Everett, and was tooyoung and ready for enjoyment to be disturbed about conventionality. Shemerrily declared her willingness to be taken to whatever entertainmentthe doctor had to propose. Mrs. Roberts was out with her husband onbusiness connected with church matters, and she had only intended towalk a square or two for her health. 

On the way the doctor was distrait, Gracie having most of the talking todo herself. The truth was, he was trying to recall the faces of thepeople he had seen crowding into the hall, to make sure that he was nottaking Gracie among people whom he would not care to have her meet. Apparently the couple whose movements had changed all his afternoonplans were not a sufficient guarantee of respectability. However, hisface cleared as he recalled one and another, as being in the crowdseeking admission; they might not be of the class with whom Gracie wasaccustomed to mingle, but they were respectable people. 

Gracie was in a merry mood. She understood enough of the doctor's busylife to feel sure that this sudden resolve to be entertained was quiteout of his ordinary line, and that of itself served to mark the hour asexceptional. 

"He feels the need of a little every-day fun, " she told herself, "andI'll help him to have it if I can. Poor man! it must be doleful to goamong sick and dying people all the time. "

They were late at the hall; the concert was well under way; but therewere plenty of vacant seats. Dr. Everett swept his eye over the room;then indicated to the usher just which seat he would have. It was onewhich commanded a view of the young man and woman who seemed to havesuch a mysterious influence over his plans. 

He was relieved to find quite early in the entertainment that it reallywas unique, and, in its way, well worth hearing. Had the surroundingsbeen agreeable he could easily have given himself up to enjoyment. However, they had been seated but a few moments, when he saw by Gracie'sstartled eyes that she had seen and recognized at least one of thecouple at their left. Professor Ellis, in his usual faultless attire, lounged gracefully on the seat in such a manner that his side-face wasdistinct; he rested a well-shaped arm on the back of the seat next him, and his delicately gloved hand almost, if not quite, touched theshoulder of his companion. 

Both he and the lady at his side gave extremely little attention to theentertainment in progress. Apparently they had come thither for purposesof conversation. They kept up a continuous murmur of talk, interspersedat intervals with rippling laughter, and really seemed so entirelyabsorbed in each other as to have at times forgotten that the hall waspublic, and that the attention of many was being turned toward them. Thegirl was pretty, extremely so, with an entirely different style ofbeauty from Gracie Dennis; and a certain indescribable something in herface and manner would have told even the most casual observer that shemoved in a different circle. It was not her dress, unless that was alittle too pronounced for the place and hour; but quite young ladies ingood society sometimes make a similar mistake. 

Neither was her manner objectionable to the degree that you could havepointed to any one thing as offensive; yet you would have been sure, hadyou watched her, that she was without the pale of what we call society. 

Gracie Dennis watched her with a kind of fascination;--becoming at lastso absorbed with the watching, and the apparently troubled thoughtswhich grew out of it, that she gave but slight attention to Dr. Everett's occasional remarks, nor seemed to observe that at last helapsed into total silence. 

Once, during the hour, the young woman glanced casually in theirdirection, and the careless nod, and free and easy smile with sheacknowledged Dr. Everett's presence, drew a startled glance from Gracieto rest on him for a moment. 

"Now I wish I had my horses, " the doctor said, as at last they madetheir way down the aisle. "I have a mile's drive up town to take, and Ithink the exercise might be good for you. "

Gracie caught at the suggestion, and begged to be allowed to remain inthe bookstore below while he went for the horses. 

"I want a ride, and I want to talk with you, " she said, simply. 

As this was precisely what he wanted, he went for the horses withoutmore delay. 

Meantime, Gracie, in one of the windows of the bookstore, was supposedto be employed in examining a late book, but in reality gave muchattention to the couple who were crossing the street, or rather waitingfor an opportunity to do so. 

They seemed in no haste, but were conspicuous, even in the crowdedstreet, for their interest in each other. More than one policemanregarded them narrowly, as Professor Ellis stood with head bent towardthe lady, engaged in eager and animated conversation. It was just theattitude of absorbed interest with which he had so often listened toGracie; not on the street, it is true, but in some crowded parlor, andit had flattered her. It made her frown to-day. They were starting nowto make the disagreeable crossing. He had taken his companion's hand, preparatory to a leap over a muddy curbing; but Gracie could see thatthere was a pressure of it that was unnecessary, and, for the street, peculiar; his face, too, was distinctly visible, and the expression onit was what Gracie had seen before, but certainly she supposed no otherperson had. 

Altogether it was probably well for Professor Ellis' peace of mind thathe did not turn at that moment, and get a glimpse of the young lady inthe bookstore. Instead he took his lady away, and they were lost in thecrowd. 

Dr. Everett, making all haste with his horses, had still time foranxious thought. Had his experiment been too severe on Gracie? Was itpossible that her interest in the man was such that the afternoon'sexperience had been mixed with pain as well as with disgust? He couldnot believe it possible that the pure-hearted young girl cared for sucha man as Professor Ellis! Yet there had been a look on her face when shesaw those two which startled and hurt him. 

When fairly seated in his carriage he did not speak until they hadthreaded the maze of wagons and reached clear ground. Even then he onlysaid, "Now for speed, " and gave the horses their desire, until crowdsand business were left behind, and they were driving down a broadavenue, lined on either side with stately yet quiet-looking homes. Thenhe drew rein, and obliged the horses to walk; he had by this timeresolved on probing the wound, if there was one. 

"I wish I knew just how much of a villain that man is. " These were thesomewhat startling words which broke his silence. 

"What man?" Yet the very tones of Gracie's voice indicated that she knewof whom he was speaking. 

"That man, Ellis! Professor, I think he is called. I have reason to bevery suspicious of him. By the way, Miss Gracie, I think he is anacquaintance of yours. Have you confidence in him?"

How promptly and indignantly such a question would have received anaffirmative answer two months before! What should she say now?

"In what respect?" she faltered, more for the purpose of gaining timethan because she did not understand the question. 

"Well, in any respect I am almost prepared to say. I have not the honorof the man's acquaintance; but whatever I hear about him, or see in him, I dislike and distrust. Just at present his ways are specially disturbing. You noticed him this afternoon, I think! The young girl in his companybelongs to my Sabbath-school. I have a deep interest in her, partlybecause she is the sort of girl who is always more or less in dangerin this wicked world, and partly because she is capable of stronglyinfluencing another, who is a special _protégé_ of mine. "

"Who is the girl?" Gracie's manner was abrupt, and her voiceconstrained. It was evident that she was making great effort to controlherself, and appear indifferent to all parties. 

The doctor took no notice of her constraint. 

"Her name is Mason. Hester Mason. She attends the Packard PlaceSabbath-school, which you know I superintend. She is motherless, andworse than fatherless; is a clerk in one of the Fourth Avenue stores, and is, or was, inclined to be what is called gay. I do not know thatthat term conveys any special meaning to you; in young men I think theycall the same line of conduct 'fast. ' I hope and believe that you wouldnot well understand either term; yet, I think, possibly, that watchingher this afternoon in a public hall will give you some conception of thestretch that there is between yourself and her. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

"SOME PEOPLE ARE HARD TO WARN. "

Had Dr. Everett desired in a few words to show Gracie the gulf betweenherself and the man who had been the girl's companion for the afternoon, perhaps he could not have formed his sentence better. 

She shivered visibly, and the doctor drew the carriage-wraps morecarefully about her, while he continued:--

"I would not want to give you a wrong estimate of Hester Mason, nor leadyou to imagine for a moment that I believe a girl who serves behind acounter cannot be a true lady. I wanted, rather, to explain to you thather opportunities had been limited. She means to be a good girl, Ithink: in fact, I may say I have the utmost confidence in herintentions. She is not a Christian, but a few weeks ago I had her nameon my note-book as one who was almost persuaded, She has been fightingthe question of personal religion for some time, --her specialstumbling-block being that she is quick-witted, and has quite a clearidea of how Christians ought to live, and can find very few who seem toher to be living what they profess. However, as I say, I have been veryhopeful of her until within a few weeks, when she came in contact withthis man, and I tremble for the result. He is constant in hisattentions, and she is evidently flattered and dazed. "

"How long has he known her? How did he become acquainted?" Abruptquestions still, asked in that curiously repressed voice. 

The doctor's face was growing very grave and stern. He feared that therewas a real wound here. 

"Inadvertently, Miss Dennis, it seems that both you and I are to blame, or, at least, are involved in the acquaintance. Do you remember a littleincident which occurred in a streetcar some six weeks ago? A youngwoman, in leaving the car, dropped a package, which you noticing, calledour attention to, and pointed out the person crossing the street, andProfessor Ellis announced his willingness to overtake her and return thepackage, as he was about to leave the car. Miss Mason was the person inquestion, and Professor Ellis presumed on that very slight introductionto cultivate an acquaintance. I have learned that he quoted my name inconnection with the incident, and since that day has been on terms ofexceeding intimacy with Hester. "

Gracie was surprised out of her reserve. 

"I remember the incident perfectly: but the girl I saw this afternooncannot be the one who was on the car. "

"Yes; she was in holiday attire to-day, and in her working garb when yousaw her momentarily on the car. I remember a feeling of regret thatProfessor Ellis should have so promptly volunteered to do your errand:yet I did not know what I dreaded. I simply shrank from the man, andwanted others to do so. "

"Dr. Everett, what is his motive in showing her attention?"

"I wish I knew. I can tell you what I greatly fear: That it is to playwith the human heart; to see to what extent he can gain power over it. And in this case certainly it is a most cruel thing. The girl has nofriends, no father or mother to advise with or help her. She is brightand pretty, and is being shown glimpses of a world that seems to herlike fairyland. She is dazzled, and one cannot blame her, for she hasneither carefully-formed judgment nor trustworthy friends to lean upon. Miss Dennis, you can judge from her manner this afternoon what is herknowledge of the customs of polite society. I do not think she has anidea that she was conspicuous, save for her beauty and the fineappearance of her attendant. She is not one to shrink from what shewould consider legitimate public admiration, and this you can see butadds to her danger. "

"But, Dr. Everett, you do not think, --you cannot mean that he intends topay her special attention; that he means anything beyond the desire togive her a little pleasure?"

"Well, " said the doctor, speaking slowly, but with firmness, "you mayjudge, Miss Dennis, what I think, --what any honorable person thinks, --ofa man who bestows in public the sort of attentions which we saw thisafternoon, You would have been insulted by them. The only reason thatthis poor girl was not, is because she does not know any better. 

"Did you observe the flashing of a peculiarly set ring on her finger? Ihave reason to fear that it belongs to him and that she believesherself specially honored in being asked to wear it. "

Poor Gracie's cheeks were flaming now. She had not observed the ring, but she knew it well, and for one brief evening had worn it herself, andthen had returned it to the owner with the assurance that she could notbring herself to wear it without her father's consent. She rememberedwhat a wound she had felt herself bestowing when he had looked at herwith those expressive, reproachful eyes, and replied that if she felttoward him as he did to her, she would not allow even a _father_ tocome between them. And he had actually given that ring into the keepingof this girl!

They rode on in silence, the doctor giving a hint to the horses thatthey might go as fast as they chose. He was in great doubt and pain ofheart. Could it be possible that this carefully-shielded young girl wascaught in the toils of a man whom he believed to be an unprincipledvillain?

If so, had he been unnecessarily cruel in his revelations? Ought he totake her home, or drive further, and give her time to recover herself?

Could he have understood what was passing in her mind he would haveknown better what next to say. The simple truth was this: Before shecame to Mrs. Roberts' the child had believed herself to be a martyr tothe unreasonable prejudices of her stepmother. She had been led to feelthat her father had turned against her, solely because of his wife'sinfluence over him, and that the wife was piqued because Professor Ellishad not paid her sufficient attention in the days of her maidenhood. This, the professor had succeeded in teaching Gracie to feel, was thesole charge against him. He was, therefore, an ill-used man, andtherefore her heart went out towards him in sympathy. 

It had not been at first a stronger feeling than this; but flattered byhis attentions, so much more marked and polished than had ever beenoffered to the young girl before, she had taught herself to believethat, but for her father's bitterness, she could be to Professor Elliswhat he delicately and vaguely assured her no one else could, and fill aplace that hitherto in his lonely life had been left void. She had notengaged herself to him; indeed, he had never, in actual words, asked herto do so; but to the young and innocent and well-trained there is alanguage which speaks as clearly as words, and is held as sacred. 

Gracie had allowed herself to be looked upon as one who was held by_others_ from being more to Professor Ellis than she was; who mightalways, perhaps, be held back, --for she had resolved in her own sadheart that she would never marry against her father's consent, no, notif she were twice of age. 

Of late, strange reflections had come to her. She had measured ProfessorEllis with other men, Christian men, and he had appeared at adisadvantage. Also she had measured herself by the side of otherChristian workers, and herself had appeared at a disadvantage. A vagueunrest and dissatisfaction with her Christian experience were growing onher. Moreover, she was growing interested in those boys, as she had notbelieved that it would be possible for her to be interested when shefirst saw them. She began to believe that some of them, at least, wouldbe saved. She wanted to help save them, and to help others. Hermartyrdom dwindled rapidly into insignificance, until there would passentire days in which she did not once remember that she as an unhappygirl. 

At last, but a week or two before this afternoon, she had taken heraffairs in hand, and tried to look steadily at them. The result of herhours of thought and prayer was that she was bound to Professor Ellis. That is, provided there should come a time in the dim and distant futurewhen her father should give his consent, it would be her duty and herpleasure, because of what had passed between them, to marry him. Still, she began to feel less amazed at her father's opinion of him, less angryabout it. She began to say to herself, softly and pitifully: "Poor, lonely man! he has no one to be his friend. He is not a Christian, andthat is what makes so great a difference between him and others. It isthat which papa misses, but I must not desert him; I must pray for himall the time, and work for his conversion; then he will grow to be thesort of man whom papa can like, and everything will be right. " And whileshe said it, she was dimly conscious of a feeling of satisfaction overthe thought that she was very young, and that it would be a long, _long_ time yet before anything could be settled; and that, meantime, it certainly was not right for her to have anything to do withProfessor Ellis, only to pray for him; and that perhaps her father wouldallow her to carry out a project that was under delightful discussion inthe Roberts family, namely, to remain in the city as a pupil in thefamous Green Lawn School. And she did not know, foolish little thing, that so far even as her heart was concerned everything was wrong. 

Perhaps it would be difficult for me to explain to you--that is, if youdo not understand without explanation--what a turmoil she was throwninto by this afternoon's experience. She was far from realizing as yetthat the uppermost feeling even now was not wounded love, but woundedpride; of what poor stuff she had been making a hero! Nothing had everopened her eyes like this before. Was it possible that she had spententire evenings with a man who stooped to set in unpleasant, evensuspicious light, not his own character only, but that of an ignorantyoung girl?

It would not do to plead a lack of knowledge in excuse for him; he mightbe ignorant of the ways of the Christian world, but no one understoodbetter the rules which governed society. During part of the afternoonshe had been very angry with the girl, but after listening to Dr. Everett it began to dawn upon her that her friend had been playing withthe ignorance of a girl who probably trusted him fully. You are tounderstand that Gracie Dennis was the sort of girl who would be madevery angry by such a suspicion. The glow on her cheeks was not allcaused by the fresh air of the spring day. 

"Dr. Everett, " she said at last, breaking the silence, "what do youthink he means by asking the girl to wear that ring, or by letting herwear it? Does he--do you suppose that he has engaged himself to her?"

"I wish I knew what he meant!" Dr. Everett said again, a surge ofindignation rushing over him. "If he really meant anything so honorableas that, it would be bad enough business for poor Hester; but, as Isaid, I distrust the man utterly; and from my experience with the worldI have reason. From your knowledge of him, Miss Dennis, could yousuppose him to be honest and earnest in his attentions to that girl?"

It was a very plain question. It meant more to Dr. Everett than evenGracie saw, but she saw enough to know that she was admitting anintimacy that made her blush; however, she answered steadily, --

"No, I cannot think that he is honest or honorable. "

"So I fear. Witness this afternoon. Gentlemen do not parade theirfriendships before the public gaze, and that man knows it. "

The doctor's voice was _very_ stern. He was sure now that there was awound, and that it was being probed; he believed in making thoroughwork, even with wounds; there would be more hope of genuine healingafterward. 

Gracie's next question--if her companion had but known it--was asingular one: "Why have not people who are her friends warned heragainst him, and held her back from making such a false step, if shedoes it in ignorance?"

Oh, Gracie Dennis! How are warnings sometimes received, even bycarefully-trained girls, who have every reason to trust the love thatwould shield them?

"Some people are very hard to warn, " said the doctor. "I have tried it, and I have a friend who has tried to help her; but the poor girl, youmust remember, has not been brought up in a Christian atmosphere--hasnever had a Christian friend who came with the authority ofrelationship. If she had a good father the way would be made so plain. As it is, can't you see how naturally she distrusts the rest of us, infavor of the man who makes special professions of friendship? I am notsurprised at Hester, I am only sorry for her. "

Had the doctor been carefully informed as to all the circumstancesconnected with Gracie's intimacy with the professor, he could not havechosen words which would have touched her conscience more. Had not hergood father tenderly and patiently warned her? and had she not chosen toblind her eyes to all his words, and believe rather in Professor Ellisthan in him?

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"PART OF THE GREAT WELL-TO-DO WORLD. "

"I must call at this house, " the doctor said, suddenly drawing reinbefore a quiet little house at the foot of a wide lawn. "The gatekeeperof this American castle has a sick child whom I have promised to see. Can you hold the horses, Miss Dennis, or shall I tie them? This is aquiet spot, and they are gentle. "

"I am not afraid of anything, " Gracie said, eyes aglow as well ascheeks. And the doctor went into the house wondering whether ProfessorEllis, if he could see her now, would not be afraid of her. 

Once inside he gave a start of surprise, almost of dismay, for the facewhich appeared at the open door of the sick-room belonged to JoySaunders. 

"You here?" he said, trying to control the disturbed element in hisvoice. 

She answered quietly:--

"I came out by street-car. Did you drive?"

"Yes, "' he said, abruptly, "but I am not alone. How is the child?" andhe went forward at once to his professional duties, leaving her towonder over his manner. 

It was peculiar, certainly. Joy Saunders was used to abruptness fromthis man, but there was a quality in it to-day that she did notrecognize. She went and looked out of the window, and saw Gracie Dennisholding the horses, saw her red, red cheeks, and flashing eyes, and thepeculiar, haughty poise of her head, with which the stepmother at homewas well acquainted. 

She did not know this Gracie Dennis save by reputation. Once Dr. Everetthad asked her to call at Mrs. Roberts', and had made her feel as thoughshe were foolishly conventional in declining to do so. "How is she everto know you, according to the rules which trammel society? There oughtto be some way arranged for Christians to be free from trammels. " Thishad been his comment; but he had not asked her again, and she had nevermet Mrs. Roberts, nor yet Gracie Dennis. Yet she knew her very well, andhad watched her often as she passed. She knew instantly who she was now, as she sat there in her haughty beauty, checking with determined handthe impatience of those horses. Oh, she knew more than this! It was veryapparent now why Dr. Everett was peculiarly abrupt, and--well, yes--embarrassed. She had almost thought that was the name of thefeeling, only it had seemed so absurd. And then Joy Saunders held hermeek little head high, and told herself that he need not fear herpresence; she could go as she had come, in the street-car. 

The doctor came towards her now, speaking rapidly, as usual:--

"Joy, the child is very sick. There ought to be an experienced personhere to-night. Not you; I am sorry you came up. Do you think your motherwould come? Will you ride down with me? I have Miss Dennis in thecarriage, but it is quite large enough for three, you know. "

Then Joy had turned away her head, holding it high, and said:--

"No, thank you; I am going down in the street-car. "

And that blundering doctor drew on his gloves, saying to himself, "Idon't know but that is best, " and went out, only waiting to say toJoy:--

"Will you ask your mother about it? I will see her as soon as I can getaround. I wish you would go directly home from here--will you?"

Then he lifted his hat to her, and sprang into his carriage and rodeaway with Gracie Dennis; and Joy Saunders waited for the next yellowcar, and climbed into it, and told herself all the way down town thatshe wished she had stayed at the little house and watched all night bythe sick child. 

The thoughts that Dr. Everett had given to the entire matter were few. They ran somewhat after this fashion:--

"Joy here! and I'm afraid of the fever, from all I have heard. I shalltake her home as soon as possible. How will that poor little girl in thecarriage manage with a new acquaintance just now, I wonder?

"I am afraid it will be quite a strain. Still, I can do the talking, andlet her be quiet. The main point is that I hoped she might have asuggestion to make about Hester. If she could rouse herself to try tosave that girl it would be the best thing she could do. If she only knewit, Joy is the one who could help her in that direction or any other. "

As they dashed down the avenue, he was still occupied in wishing that hehad urged Joy to ride, and thus forced an acquaintance between her andthe pretty girl at his side. He was not very patient with what he calledthe "trammels" of society. When there were two people so fitted to enjoyand help one another, as were Joy Saunders and Gracie Dennis, he held itto be a waste in Christian economy that they should not know each other. 

Too much occupied with his thoughts and his driving to give heed topassers-by, he lost the careful bow that young Ried had for them as theydrew near the city's whirl again. Gracie did not; she returned it, witha slightly-heightened color in her cheeks, and wondered if that youngman knew Professor Ellis, and what he thought of him, and what hethought of her for being acquainted with him. 

Sometimes it seems to me a real pity that on occasion there could notbe some way of looking into one another's thoughts. So manymisunderstandings might thus be saved. For instance, there was Ried, whowent on his way with a clouded brow. Where had Dr. Everett been? andwhy was Gracie Dennis with him? Was it probable that he had been ridingfor pleasure? The bare suggestion astonished the young man. He found thathe had never before given room to the thought that Dr. Everett took timefor pleasure! Allowing this to be the case, why had he not taken JoySaunders with him? Such a proceeding would have seemed altogethernatural, though the honest-hearted young fellow admitted to himselfthat, had he been taking a ride for pleasure, the companion of hischoice would not have been Joy Saunders. It was certainly a bewilderingworld. So trying did young Ried find his thoughts on that evening thathe actually set himself deliberately to learn whether the ride was theresult of chance or design. The consequence was that he learned not onlyof the ride, but of the afternoon entertainment at Seltzer Hall, withglass goblets for instruments. This increased his astonishment, and didnot lessen the gloom on his face. 

But the two in the carriage, unconscious of the gloomy young man, or ofthe sad-hearted young girl riding in a street-car, were almost silentduring the homeward ride, until just as they turned into the avenue thatled to Mr. Roberts' door. Then Grace said:--

"Dr. Everett, I should like to know that girl. There are some thingsthat I ought to say to her, and if I had a chance I would try to saythem in a way to help her. "

"I will manage it, " said Dr. Everett, speaking in a quick, relievedtone. He felt encouraged for Hester now, and greatly relieved aboutGracie. She might be wounded, but she was made of the material of whichhe had hoped. She was not going to die herself, nor fold her hands andsee others ruined, merely because she had been deceived. 

He bade her a cheery "Good afternoon!" and drove away, feeling that, although he had been obliged to give up Sewell Alley, good work had beenaccomplished. He believed now that he understood the situation. 

He was right about one thing: Gracie Dennis had not the slightest ideaof dying. Her mood was better expressed, half an hour later, when shestood at the parlor window, and returned a low, lingering bow fromProfessor Ellis, with a haughty stare from flashing eyes, looking outfrom an erect and motionless head. 

 * * * * *

Dirk Colson's brain was in a whirl. He had an important question tosettle. In his pocket were two blue tickets, promising to admit him tothe largest and finest hall in the city to hear the great temperanceorator. Dirk knew very little about orators, but he had heard of John B. Gough, and everything he had heard made him wish to have a glimpse ofhim. You will remember that Dirk was an imitator. He had heard that Mr. Gough was also, and down deep in his heart the boy had an ambition tohear the man. Now was his unexpected opportunity. Of course, he wasgoing, but the perplexing thing was, what to do with that other ticket. 

There was Mart? Oh, yes, to be sure, he had not forgotten her; but whata strange thing it would be to take her to a lecture! He had never takenher anywhere in his life. She had nothing to wear, though he rememberedat that moment that the mother had, by earnest effort, succeeded ingetting her shawl out of pawn. 

There was one incentive for taking her; it would please Mrs. Roberts. Dirk studied the thing for some time, to try to discover why she shouldcare, and had finally given up the problem as too great for him. Yet hewas sure she cared; there had been a wistful light in her eyes when shesaid, "I thought possibly you might like to take that sister with thegolden hair, " that he saw and interpreted. It took him three days todecide what he should say, supposing he made up his mind to ask her. 

Several people were at work helping him, though he knew nothing aboutthat. Mrs. Roberts remarked one evening to young Ried that she wishedshe knew a way to induce Dirk Colson to take his sister, withoutactually asking him to do so. She fancied that, besides the advantagewhich might possibly directly follow an evening spent in that way, itwould suggest new thoughts to the brother. 

The young man caught at the suggestion, and wanted to help carry it out. It was not an easy thing to do. He had not grown intimate with DirkColson; in fact, that misguided young fellow rather resented any attemptat intimacy. He was, however, acquainted with Sallie Calkins; thenumerous trips he had made to their room during Mark's illness hadbrought him into such constant and pleasant contact with Sallie and herbrother that they looked upon him as a tried friend. Sallie, he knew, was a friend of the shy, golden-haired sister. So one evening he went tocall at the Calkins room, with a vague hope of helping indirectly inbringing to pass Mrs. Roberts' desires. 

To Sallie he made known the wish that Dirk would take his sister to thelecture, and secured from her a promise to help the scheme along, provided it developed. 

After he went away, Sallie sat long at her sewing, making all alone, bya dim light, one of the most heroic little sacrifices that was everoffered "in His name. " To fully understand it, you must know that MarkCalkins had recovered sufficiently to take his place in the office whereDr. Everett had secured him an opening, and an employment that wouldenable him to sit, most of the time, thereby giving his injured limb achance to rest. Also, Mark had been admitted to the Monday eveninggatherings, and was distinguishing himself there by his skill in readingand writing. Of course, he had received two tickets, and equally ofcourse, being the boy he was, he had planned to take Sallie with him tothe lecture. Great was Sallie's prospective pleasure! The event of herlifetime it was to be. To walk with Mark through the crowded streets, both neatly dressed; to walk boldly forward with the throng, and presenttheir tickets of admittance to the great hall; hitherto seen only fromthe outside; to move down the long aisles as those who had a right, andselect their seats unquestioned by police; in short, to be like otherpeople--part of the great well-to-do world, --this was Sallie's joy!

She had washed and mended her best calico dress; she had sewed buttonson the pretty cape, according to Mrs. Roberts' directions; she had triedon the neat bonnet which had been manufactured for her by Mrs. Roberts'own fingers, and, altogether, Sallie had probably gotten, during thesetwo days, more enjoyment out of Gough's lecture than many others, whohad heard him a dozen times, ever secured. I do not think it any wonderthat, as she rocked and sewed, and thought out her great thought, therefell tears on the work she was doing. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"FOR YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT MAY COME. "

This was the thought: Suppose Dirk Colson should want to take hissister. Sallie did not believe it in the least probable; she had notthat amount of faith in Dirk Colson; but suppose he should, Mart couldnot go, for the reason that she would have nothing to wear. 

And here was Sallie's pretty cape, which would cover the worst of herdress, and her pretty bonnet, which she knew would make a picture ofMart; but if she lent them it meant staying at home to Sallie. _Could_ she do it? Could she bear to think of such a thing? Whatwould Mark say? What would he do with his other ticket?

Would she be likely ever to have another chance to go to that wonderfulhall, and be like other folks?

But _Mart_ had never been anywhere in her life. 

"And I, " said poor Sallie, catching her breath with a sob, "have beenoften for a walk on the brightest streets, and looked in at the shopwindows, and everything. I 'most know I will help her to go if I can. "

Young Ried had no conception of the sacrifice for which he had asked. 

It is little wonder, surely, that Sallie's voice faltered that sameevening, as she explained to Mart, who had slipped in for a bit of talk, that if ever she wanted to go anywhere very bad, she was to let Sallieknow, and she should have her cape and bonnet to wear. Then she hadanxiously planned for her a way to mend her dress, so that it would lookquite well under the cape, and she had even urged:--

"Now do, Mart, if anybody should want you to go don't say you won't; buttake your chance, for you don't know what may come. "

Also she bore with patience Mart's scornful laugh, and emphaticstatement that no chances ever came to her, and nobody ever wanted herto go anywhere. As she talked she grew interested and eloquent; urgedearnestly that Mart should embrace the first opportunity to gosomewhere, and wear her new cape and bonnet. At the same time she wassilent about the lecture. Suppose no chance should come? Then it wouldbe doubly hard to Mart to have had the possibility suggested. The samedelicate reasoning had held her from dwelling on her own prospects. Somepeople would have been very much astonished over the amount of delicateconsideration for the feelings of others which could be found in thatlittle room. 

Dirk loitered strangely over his meagre dinner the next afternoon. Itwas late, for he had secured a position at last in one of the printingoffices, and was apt to take his meals at any hour when it happened tobe convenient to do without him at the office. He had only been threedays at work, and Mart had taken little notice of the new departure, except to remark grimly that it would not last; but to Sallie she hadboasted that Dirk had gone to work as hard as anybody. If somebody couldonly have told Dirk that his sister ever boasted of him it might havehelped him much during these days. 

"What are you hanging around for? You've got all there will be to eat inthis house to-day, and it is time you were off. " This was the ungraciousmanner in which the sister took note of his lingering. She was painfullyafraid that he had already grown weary of regular employment, and thefear made her voice gruffer than usual. 

His reply amazed her; in fact, it amazed himself:--

"Mart, I've got tickets to a show, --a nice place, --and I want you to goalong. "

"Humph!" said Mart, "that is a likely story!"

Then he grew earnest, displayed his treasures, and urged heracceptance--quite astonished with himself the while. _Did_ hereally want her to go, he wondered, or did he want to please Mrs. Roberts?

You would have been interested, an hour later, to have seen Mart skip upthe rickety stairs leading to the Calkins abode. You would probably havethought that she endangered life or limb by her rapid movements; butMart was used to such staircases, and the news she had to communicaterequired haste. 

"There's a chance!" she said, breathless with speed and eagerness;"Sallie Calkins, there's a chance, and you'd never guess how. Dirk hewants me to go to a show with him this very night! He's got tickets. Itis a big show, --where all the grand folks go. It is in the very biggesthall in this city, and Dirk he says I am to go. Sallie Calkins, do youmean it, truly, that I am to wear your lovely new bonnet and cape? Doyou suppose I can really go anywhere? I don't known why Dirk wants me toso bad, but he coaxed and coaxed. "

Poor Sallie! She stooped quickly to pick up a pin from the floor, sothat Mart might not get a glimpse of her eyes with the sudden tears inthem. Yet, as she stooped, she made her final, grand sacrifice--Martshould go!

Then she entered with entire abandon into the preparations. Not only herbonnet and cape, but her shoes--new ones that Mark had bought her withhis first earnings after his illness--were to attend the lecture. 

She rejoiced over the excellent fit of the shoes. She did more thanthis. As Mart watched the process of buttoning them, and remarkedcomplacently that she shouldn't wonder if Dirk would buy her a pair someday, when he earned money enough, she kept her lip from curling with anincredulous sneer. You will remember that she had not the slightestfaith in Dirk. 

Neither must I forget that there was another thing to lend--her comb, inorder that Mart's wonderful yellow hair might be for once reduced tosomething like order. And at the risk of leading you to think thatSallie was altogether too "aesthetic" for her position in life, I shallhave to confess that this was her hardest bit of sacrifice; her comb wasso new and so pretty!

However, it did its duty on Mart's tawny locks, and the transformingeffect was marvellous. In fact, when all was ready, the cape adjusted, the hat which Mrs. Roberts had shown her how to wear set on the yellowhead, Sallie said not a word, but went to the packing-box in the cornerwhich served as a treasure cupboard, and drew forth the one possessionabout which she had been utterly silent--a little hand-glass which Markhad brought her one winter evening just before he was hurt. A cheap, little, ugly glass, which you would have turned from in disgust, sayingthat it made your nose awry, and your chin protrude and your eyessquint, and was altogether horrid; but, held before Mart's glowing face, what a secret did it reveal! Mart looked, and was silent, too; and wenthome in a hushed frame of mind to wait for Dirk. Home was deserted. Themother had dragged her wearied body out for a day of "light" work. Thetime had gone by when she was able to do any that people called heavy. Where the father was, none of the family knew, and their chief hopeconcerning him was that he would stay away as long as possible. 

I find myself longing to give you an idea of what that elegant, brilliantly lighted hall, with its brilliant audience, was to this girl, and being unable to do it. 

When people live so far below us that our every-day experiences are tothem like a day at the World's Fair, it is very hard indeed to describehow our special treats affect them. 

It is a treat to everybody to hear Gough. How then can I tell you whatit was to this girl and her brother? Dirk listened; he must havelistened well, for long afterward he was able to repeat entireparagraphs, and to imitate the manner of the great orator withremarkable skill;--yet at the time he would have seemed to a closewatcher to have been absorbed in another way. He looked at Mart somewhatas he had on that Sabbath when his acquaintance with Mrs. Roberts began. But the thought which had dimly haunted him that day blossomed on thisevening. Certainly Mart looked like Mrs. Roberts! It might be folly tothink so; doubtless the fellows would make no end of fun of him if heshould ever tell them so, which he meant to take excellent care not todo; but the fact remained, that in Sallie's bonnet and cape, and, aboveall, with the waves of hair floating about her, there was a look whichinstantly and strongly reminded him of that lady. 

There was another listener at the lecture who was unexpectedly present. Part of poor Sallie's trial had been to tell her brother, who had beenradiant for a week over the prospect of taking her, that she had withher own hand put away the blessing. How would Mark take it? Dirk'sforlorn-looking sister was no favorite of his. I think it would havebeen very difficult to have convinced him that there was a trace of Mrs. Roberts in her face. 

But such curious creatures are we that it actually hurt Sallie to seehow quietly he took the great sad news of her sacrifice. After the firststart of surprise, he seemed preoccupied, and she could almost havethought that he did not hear her explanation. She had much ado to keepback the tears, but she had made a special little feast for him thatevening, with a white cloth on the table, and a cup of actual tea, andthe cup set in a saucer. She was not going to spoil the scene withtears; so after a little she said, cheerily:--

"Now you have a chance to do something nice for somebody. Who will youtake on your ticket?"

"I was thinking, " he answered, slowly. "You know it is a temperancelecture, and it is by a wonderful man. The fellows in the shop have beentalking about him all day, and they say you just can't help_thinking_ when he gets agoing; and I was just thinking, What if wecould get _him_ to go, and he would listen, and get to thinking. "

There are no italics that will give you an idea of the peculiar emphasiswhich the boy put on the pronouns. Sallie understood; that "he" couldmean but one person in the world. But her brother must have answered thelook on her face, for she spoke no word. 

"Sometimes they _do_, Sallie. There was old Pete, you know. "

Oh, yes, Sallie knew old Pete; every body in that alley knew him; anotorious drunkard once, of the sort which people, even good Christianpeople, are apt to pronounce hopeless; yet now he wore a neat suit ofclothes every day, and brought home twenty pounds of flour at one timein a sack, and bought his coal by the barrel. Wonderful thingsoccasionally happened in that alley. 

"Yes, " said Sally, "that is true; and old Pete wasn't much like him. "

The tone spoke volumes. It would have almost angered her, even now, tohave had it hinted that old Pete was superior to that father, thoughhardly a person acquainted with the two but would have said that therewas more hope for old Pete, even in his miserable past, than for thisone. 

How they managed it, those two: the difficult task of getting himpersuaded to go, find then the more difficult task of keeping himsufficiently sober to get there, would make a story in itself. I fancythere are many such stories in real life which will never get told. Theprobabilities are, if they were, some wise critic would pronounce themunnatural and sensational. 

Suffice it to say that the task was accomplished, and among the mostattentive listeners to the great speaker that evening was Sallie'sfather, while she sat at home and mended a badly torn jacket, and criednow and then, and was glad and sorry and proud and frightened andhopeful by turns all that long evening. 

I am not sure but it was better for her that she sat at home. I don'tknow just what she might have done had she been in the hall to see herfather, at the close of the meeting, shamble forward with the crowd, andsign his name to the total abstinence pledge. 

She might have screamed out in her excitement, or she might havefainted; for although there were those who said--some with a sneer, andsome with a sigh--that "signing the pledge would not amount to anything;the miserable fellow could not keep a pledge to save his life!" Sallywould have thought nothing of the kind. She had faith in her father'sword. 

It is a wonderful stimulus to have some one who believes in us. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

"WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO ACCOMPLISH?"

"Do you know, " said Mrs. Roberts, addressing Gracie Dennis, who, withyoung Ried, had waited in the hall for her to join them (they were readyfor the lecture, and were to take up Mr. Roberts on the way): "Do youknow that I have a desire which I see no way of realizing? If Mr. Colsonshould bring his sister with him to-night I should like so much to getpossession of her and bring her home with me! But I have been planningall day, and see no possible excuse for such an apparently wildproceeding. "

I want you to notice how naturally Mrs. Roberts said "Mr. Colson"; shenever talked about Dirk under any other name; she even taught herself to_think_ of him as "Mr. Colson. " Consequently, when she spoke thename in his presence, there was not a trace of unnaturalness in tone ormanner. The others tried in vain to follow her example. Dr. Everettcould not speak of him in this way without slight hesitation and a touchof embarrassment. "The truth is, " said he, "I think _Dirk_ all theweek, and on the Sabbath I find it impossible to reach up to 'Mr. Colson' without an effort. " There was no touch of "reaching up" orreaching down, about Mrs. Roberts' talk with her pupils. It is possiblethat this is one link in the chain of influence which she was weavingaround them. 

Gracie Dennis' face expressed curiosity, and when they were seated inthe carriage, she referred to the cause:--

"But Flossy, I cannot imagine why you should want to do such a thing. Itwill certainly be too late to-night to try to get acquainted with her. Ishould think some time when you could have an unbroken evening would bethe better for experimenting. "

"For some sorts of experimenting it would, " Mrs. Roberts answered, smiling quietly; "my experiment, in part at least, was to see how thepink room might impress her. "

"Flossy Shipley!"

When Gracie took refuge in that name her hostess knew she was not onlymuch excited, but a trifle disapproving; at such times she made haste tochange the subject. 

It happened that the thing for which she had been planning, shapeditself so naturally as to give not the slightest color or premeditationto the act. 

When Dirk and his sister worked their way through the dense crowds tothe open air they discovered that it was raining heavily. For almost thefirst time in her life the fact struck terror to Mart Colson's soul!Ordinarily no duck could have been more indifferent to a rain storm thanherself. On this evening she gave vent to her dismay in short, expressive words:

"Sallie's bonnet!" "And cape!" This last, after a moment's thought. "Andshoes!" she added, as the magnitude of her troubles grew upon her. 

Drawn up close to the sidewalk stood a carriage and a pair of horsesthat Dirk could not help giving admiring attention to, despite the rain. A fine horse always held his attention. No thought of the occupants ofthe carriage came to him, not even after a head leaned forward and ahand beckoned; of course it was beckoning to somebody else. Then a clearvoice spoke:--

"Mr. Colson!"

He started quickly forward; there was but one person who ever said "Mr. Colson, " and besides, that voice belonged only to one. 

"I want your sister to go home with me. It is raining so hard that sheought not to walk, and I should like very much to have her stay with meto-night. Won't you ask her to, please?"

If Mrs. Roberts had been asking a favor, instead of conferring one, hervoice could not have been sweeter and more winning. 

Dirk went back to his sister, too much bewildered by the state ofaffairs even to express surprise. "Mart, " he said, "she wants you. "

A quick spring to the sidewalk, and young Ried was standing beside Mart. "It is raining so hard, " he explained, "Mrs. Roberts would be very gladif you would come. "

And Mart, thinking of nothing at all, save Sallie's bonnet and cape andshoes, turned toward the waiting carriage. 

Mr. Ried had his umbrella raised, and carefully shielded the bonnet, assisting its wearer to enter the carriage with as much courtesy as hehad bestowed on Gracie Dennis but a few moments before. Not a movementwas lost on the watching Dirk. 

When the door was closed and the goodnights had been said, --Mrs. Robertsleaning from the carriage again for that purpose, --and when the horseshad dashed around the corner, he still occupied his position on thecurbstone, gazing down the street, gazing at nothing unless he saw areflection of his own bewildered thoughts. 

"Come!" said a policeman who knew him, and was therefore suspicious, "What are you hanging about here for? Move on!"

"Humph!" said Dirk, as he slowly took his hands out of his pockets, eyesstill fixed on the corner where the carriage had turned, "what if Ishould?"

Something in his eye would have told Mrs. Roberts, had she been there, that he meant more than moving down the street; though that he presentlydid, regardless of wind and rain. 

Meantime the bonnet and cape in the carriage stepped somewhat into thebackground, and the girl who wore them allowed herself once more tothink of her individuality, and to wonder at her position. She sat boltupright on the edge of the soft, gray seat, and gazed about her as wellas she could by the glimmer of the street lamps. She in a carriage! MartColson sitting on a back seat, beside a grand lady, and rolling down theavenue! Who would have supposed that such a thing could have happened toSallie Calkins' bonnet? Mrs. Roberts recognized the bonnet and cape witha smile of satisfaction. She had studied much over the possibilities ofthis girl's costume. Was it probable that she had anything suitable towear to a lecture? She had passed the cellar where the girl lived butonce, and had had but one glimpse of her; yet these glimpses had beenenough to render it highly improbable that she had any street costume. Then, had Mrs. Roberts canvassed the possibilities of getting astreet-suit for her, there were apparently insurmountable difficultiesin the way. She was too utterly unacquainted with the ground to venture. Besides, there were reasons for believing that anything of value wouldfind its way from that cellar to a pawnbroker's in a very short space oftime. 

Having spent hours over many different schemes, and rejected each one asliable to bring disaster, Mrs. Roberts was obliged to betake herself toprayer. If the watching Saviour wanted her to work through the medium ofthis lecture on this particular child of His, He could certainly seethat she was present; could furnish her with clothes to wear, eitherthrough herself or some other of His servants. She would wait and watch. 

Not once had she thought of Sallie Calkins and the new bonnet that herown fingers had helped to fashion; yet here it was beside her on thehead of this girl, toward whom she was drawn! The fact made Mrs. Robertsradiant. 

She said almost nothing to the startled prisoner at her side, beyond amurmured, "So glad you let me carry you home with me!" Then she drew abright-colored wrap about her, and left her to her amazement, while theeager tongues of the rest of the party talked continuously. 

By the way, you are not acquainted with the pink room, I think? Youshould see it before it is invaded for the night. Large, it is. I thinklittle people sometimes have a peculiar fondness for large rooms; Mrs. Roberts had. The walls were tinted with what might be called asuggestion of pink, with just a touch of sunset gold about themouldings. 

The carpet was soft and rich; it gave back no sound of footfall. It wasstrewn with pink buds; some just opening into beauty, some half-blown. Accustomed to the sight of elegant carpets as you are, you would almosthave stooped to pick one of these buds, they looked so real. The curtainsto the windows were white, but lined with rose pink; they were loopedback with knots of pink ribbons. The bed was a marvel of pink and whitedrapery; so was the dressing-bureau. The easy-chairs were upholstered insoft grays with a pinkish tinge; and the tidies, lavishly displayed, were all of pink and white. There was nothing conventional about theroom. A professional would have been shocked by some of itsappointments. Many a lady of wealth, accustomed to having things as"they" decree, would have been more than doubtful over the pink ribbonsand the profusion of white drapery. Aside from the carpet, and a choicepicture or two, there was nothing especially expensive about thefurnishings. It was simply a room in which Mrs. Roberts had allowed herown sweet little fancies to take her captive. 

The gas was lighted; the door was ajar into a toilet-room; a lavishdisplay of great, beautiful towels could be seen as you peeped in, andvarious touches told of an expected guest. Flowers were blossoming onthe mantel, and a tiny vase which stood on a bracket near thetoilet-stand held a single rose of a peculiar hue and perfume, which hadblossomed for this hour. At least, Mrs. Roberts thought so. 

Into this room, in all its purity and beauty, went Sallie Calkins'bonnet and cape and her strong, new, thick shoes; and the wearer thereofpushed the bonnet away from her flushed face, and stood and looked abouther. 

Down stairs they discussed in curious tones--not her, but the mistressof the mansion. 

"Flossy, I do think you are too queer for anything! Why don't you haveher go to Katy's room? Katy is away for the night, you know, and I'msure her room is as neat and pretty as can be. Imagine what a contrastit would be to anything that she has ever seen! Mr. Ried, you ought tosee the room into which she has been put. There isn't a more elegant onein the house. Some of its furnishings are so delicate that I hardly liketo touch them. What sort of a disease is it that has taken Mrs. Roberts, do you suppose, to send her there? Flossy, she will get no restto-night; she will be afraid of that immaculate bed. "'

This, of course, was Gracie Dennis. 

Mr. Roberts looked from her to his wife, --his face smiling, curious, yetwith a sort of at-rest expression. 

"What do you hope to accomplish, Flossy?" He asked the question as onewho was pleased to watch a new experiment, yet felt sure that theexperimenter had an end to attain which would justify any measures thatshe might take. Mr. Roberts had believed in his wife when he chose herfrom all others; but he was learning to believe in her in a peculiarsense, as one led by a hand that made no mistakes. 

She turned to answer his question; her face bright, yet half puzzled:--

"I am not sure that I can explain to you what I hoped for, " she said; "Icaught the idea from Mr. Ried. "

"From me!" and the young man thus mentioned looked so astonished andincredulous that Gracie laughed. 

"He is sure he never thought of anything so wild, " she said, gayly. "Flossy, you must find a better excuse than that. "

"Yet it was something that he said. Do you remember telling me, not longago, about your sister's idea that all the world had lost its placebecause of sin; that God intended everything here to be beautiful, andall life to be bright with joy, and that Satan had gotten hold of men'slives, and was trying to ruin them, and that every beautiful creationwas God's picture to the world of what his intention had been? I'mtelling it poorly; but it made a very deep impression. This girl's face, you know, is beautiful. It is what God meant some faces tobe; at least, I mean he has given her the frame for a face of beauty. Ihave a vague, half-understood sort of wish to give her a glimpse ofharmony; something that will fit her golden hair and lovely complexion;and see what she will think of God's idea, and whether she willunderstand that it is sin which has spoiled it, and whether she iswilling to serve the author of her ruin. I don't believe I am makingmyself plain, but I know what I mean, at least. "

"If we do not, I think it must be because you have caught a thought fromGod, that we are not able to reach up to. "

It was Mr. Roberts who made this reply. Something in his wife'sexperiment had deeply moved him. 

As for Mr. Ried, his face lighted, as it always did, at the mention ofhis sister's name. 

"Sometimes I almost think that it is Ester still at work, and that Helets her work through this woman. "

It was what he said to Gracie Dennis in an aside. Mrs. Roberts hadalready gone to see in person to the comfort of her guest. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"O LORD, TAKE DIRK, TOO!"

She found her standing before the mirror. By reason of the fact that sheunderstood no pretty trick of braid or curl, her long yellow hair hungjust as Nature had made it, with no waves or ripples save those whichhad grown with its growth. It fell about her now like a sunset cloud. She had taken from the vase near at hand a rose, which she had pushed inamong the masses of hair, with no knowledge as to how it should bearranged, or, indeed, thought; yet the effect was something which madeMrs. Roberts give an involuntary start of admiration. 

Still it was evident that, though apparently gazing at herself, she wasthinking away beyond herself. It is doubtful if at that moment she sawthe flower, or her own reflection, or knew that she was looking. Hereyes had the faraway expression which one sometimes sees in great poweron faces like hers. She turned as Mrs. Roberts, having softly knockedand received no answer, softly entered, and her first words indicatedthe intensity of her thought, whatever it was:--

"Dirk has _got_ to go there!"

"Go where?" asked Mrs. Roberts, startled out of the words she meant tospeak; startled by the hint of power in the voice and manner. 

"Of whom are you thinking, my dear girl? and where do you want him togo?"

"I'm thinking about Dirk, ma'am; I thought about him all the evening;the man made me; and I've made up my mind; he's _got_ to go toheaven!"

I suppose I cannot give you an idea of the force in her voice. It was asthough a resolution, from which there could be no appeal, had beentaken, and the person resolving felt her own power to accomplish. It wasaltogether an unexpected answer to Mrs. Roberts. She did not knowwhether to be half-frightened or to laugh. 

She sat down in one of the easy-chairs to study the girl, and considerwhat answer to make. Mart, meantime, turned back to the survey ofherself in the mirror, or to the survey of whatever she saw there, andcontinued talking:--

"I never knew much about heaven. You may guess that, if you have everbeen in our alley. Only lately, Sallie Calkins she's been telling mewhat you told her; and I had a kind of notion that you must know whatyou was talking about, and that it was for rich folks and grand folkslike you; but the man told about that Madge, you know, to-night--anawful drunkard and swearer, and all that--how she reformed and went toheaven. Dirk ain't no drunkard; but he will be. Everybody says he will, because father is such an awful one. Mother, she's never had no hope ofhim. She says father didn't drink till he was most twenty, and then hebegun; and she's looking for Dirk to begin, and I haven't thought hecould help it either. What if he doesn't care for it much yet? He will, it's likely. I've never told nobody that, not even Sallie, and I've beenmad at mother every time she said any such thing; but all the time I'vebeen expecting him to begin; and I know well enough, when once they_begin_, how it goes on. But that man to-night told things that madea difference. He says that God can keep them from wanting to drink, andhelp them right straight along; and that they can go to heaven as wellas the next one. I've wanted nice things for Dirk all my life; but Inever saw no way to get them, and it made me mad. To-night I saw a way, but I never had no kind of a notion how heaven looked till I come intothis room, and see the light and the flowers and the shine, and anotherroom spread out there in the glass: and now I know, and Dirk shall go!"

Mrs. Roberts was in no mood for laughing, the tears were dropping slowlyon the flower she held in her hand. Mart saw in the glass just then asight which seemed to add to her surprise. She turned wondering eyes onher hostess. 

"What are you crying for?" she asked. "Don't spoil the flower; it islike the one Dirk bought me once. He said you sent it to me. I kept itmost a week. I took it over to Sallie's, and she got fresh water for itevery day, somehow; and it was then she begun to tell me what you saidabout heaven, and I thought if God had made such flowers as that foryou, it was likely he had made a heaven for you; but I didn't believe itwas for Dirk till to-night, and I didn't have no kind of a notion how itlooked till just now. Do you _believe_ what that man said--thatfolks like Dirk can go? Of course, if Madge went, why Dirk would have a_right_. He is bad just because he _has_ to be. He never hadno chance to be anything else; and he ain't very bad, anyhow--nothing tocompare with some. " Her voice was almost fierce in its earnestness; shewas beginning to resent the creeping doubt that Mrs. Roberts' silencesuggested. 

Careful words must be spoken now. What if this awakening soul should beturned aside! No wonder that the unspoken words were prayers. 

"Dirk has a _right_ to go to heaven, " she said, steadily, sweetly;"there is not the shadow of a doubt as to his right. No one in theworld--not Satan himself--can deprive him of it; and it is not only his_right_, but his duty to go. "

"Then he shall!"

I wish I could give you an idea of the strength in the girl's voice. Italmost carried conviction with it to Mrs. Roberts' heart. 

"Come and sit down, " she said, and she drew her towards one of the lowcushions. If Mart sat on that, her head would be just where a gentlehand could stroke the masses of hair. 

"Let me talk with you about this. You are mistaken in one thing. Dirk isvery bad. He is bad enough to shut him out of heaven forever. "

The girl started, and tried to fling off the caressing hand. 

"So are you, " said the gentle voice. 

"Oh, _me_! Don't talk about me! Whoever said I wasn't bad? Let mego; I want to go home. I don't care how hard it rains. "

"And so am I, " continued the gentle voice. 

The girl on the cushion ceased struggling to free herself from thecaressing touch, and remained motionless. 

"Let me tell you of something that we have each done a great many times. We have been asked and urged and coaxed day after day, and year afteryear, to accept an invitation to go to this very heaven, and we havepaid no attention at all; and this, after Jesus Christ had given Hislife to make a way for us to go. Is not that being bad?"

"Dirk he never had no invitation--never heard anything about it. "

"Yes, he has, " speaking with quiet firmness. "The Lord Jesus Christ toldme to invite him, and I have done so a great many times, and he has madeno answer; and Sallie Calkins has invited you, and you have treated itin just the same way. "

"I didn't believe it. "

"Isn't that being bad? What has He ever done that you should refuse tobelieve His word, when He died an awful death to prove to you that Hewas in earnest?"

"You said Dirk had a _right_ to go. "

"So he has. Jesus Christ has given him a right, if he will. I haveinvited you to my house, and asked you to spend the night in this room, and sleep in this bed. Has any person a right to keep you from doingso?"

"No. " An emphatic nod of the head, and a lingering, almost loving lookat the white bed behind her. 

"Then cannot you truthfully say that you have a _right_ to be here?My dear girl, it is so faint an illustration of what Jesus Christ hasdone to give you a right to heaven, that I almost wonder at yourunderstanding it. But can you imagine something of how I should havefelt had I urged you to come to me night after night, for weeks andyears, and you had turned from me with no answer, or else with scorn?"

"You wouldn't have kept on asking me. " Mart spoke with the assurance ofone who had firm faith in her statement. 

"No, I presume I should not. I would have said after the third or fourthinvitation, 'If she really will not have anything to do with me I cannothelp it, ' and I should have tried to forget you. This is one of the manydifferences between Christ and me. He waits, and asks, and _asks_. How long will you keep Him waiting?"

I have given you only the beginning of the conversation. It was long ereit was concluded. 

Down stairs Mr. Ried waited as long as he could, curious to know theresult of Mart's first impressions. Then he went away, and Gracie wentto her room, and the house settled into quiet, and Mr. Roberts, in thelibrary, waited for his wife, while she told over again, with tenderwords and simple illustrations, the "old, old story, " so fitted to thewants of the world. 

How many times has there been a like result. 

It was midnight when they knelt together, the fair child of luxury andthe child of poverty; but the Saviour, who intercedes for both, bent Hisear, and heard again the cry of a groping soul, seeking Him out ofdarkness, and held out His loving, never-failing arms, able to reachdown to her depth, and received her to himself. Who can tell that story?Who can describe how heaven seemed to the girl just then?

It was not what Mrs. Roberts had expected. I cannot even say that it waswhat she had hoped for. Her faith had not reached to such a height atall. She could hardly have put into words what she hoped. When sheventured to try to tell it to the friends in the parlor, and to you, Idoubt whether you understood. She thought to get a hold on the girl; toshow her something of God's beauty and love, as it shone throughherself; to make her long after something her life did not give, and togradually lead her to seek after satisfaction in Christ. A longprocess--something that should unfold gradually, with many discouragingdrawbacks, and some days that would look like utter failures. She hadschooled herself to be prepared for this, but she had not looked for Himto exert His mighty power to save in a moment. How it had touched her tofind a soul, hungry, not for itself, but for a brother, I shall notattempt to tell. The first words she said, after she went back to herwaiting husband, a little after midnight, were these:--

"He could not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief. Ithink that is what is the matter with the world to-day. I wonder if Hewould not be pleased with one who could throw herself at His feet with achildlike abandon of faith, and expect wonders, yes, andimpossibilities, just as a child feels that _anything_ can be doneby father? God has shamed my faith to-night. It is as though I had askedfor a crumb of bread, and he gave me the entire loaf. That girlup-stairs has not heard of Him before as a Saviour for _her_; hasnever thought of such a thing, or, at least, dreamed of its possibility, and yet she has given herself to Him. And Evan, what do you think werethe first words she said? 'O Lord, take Dirk, too!' She is on her kneesat this moment praying for him. If you could have seen her face when itfirst dawned upon her that she could tell God about him, and ask for Hismighty power to be exerted in his behalf, it would have been a picturefor your lifetime. Oh, Evan, Evan, why can we not expect great things ofGod?"

CHAPTER XXVII. 

"AN AWFUL PROBLEM"

Isn't it strange, the ways the Lord takes to answer prayers?

Much prayer had been made for Dirk Colson, but few had thought of hissister. Sallie Calkins, it is true, had come with trembling steps intothe light of Christ's love, and had immediately desired to have Martenjoy it with her, but was very trembling and doubting as to her abilityto reach Mart, or to influence her in the right direction. She sent thebonnet and cape to the lecture with a prayer, but she did not look forthe prayer to be answered. Verily, He has to be content with faith "lessthan a grain of mustard-seed. "

Was the rest of the story an answer to prayer? We are to remember thatHe has strange ways. Events startling enough in their import followedeach other in rapid succession. In the first place, Dirk's father, poor, wrecked man, returned no more. Whether he had wandered among the networkof railroads which lined the southern portion of the city, and lost hislife there, or whether he had fallen into the river, or just how he haddisappeared, could not be discovered. There were three men killed by anaccident on the road one night, but their disfigured bodies were buriedbefore Dirk heard of it. There was a man seen struggling in the wateroff the lower wharf one evening, but he sank before help could reachhim, and his body was not recovered. There were half a dozen men killedby a boiler explosion, but that was not heard of in time to look intoit. There were so many ways in which the wreck might have gone out oflife and left no sign. They were safe in supposing that he wasintoxicated, and that was about all they could be perfectly sure of, concerning him; that, and the fact that he came no more. Of course, there was no such search for him as is made for the man ofrespectability and position. To one who had some idea of the worth of asoul, it was pitiful to see what a tiny ripple this disappearance madeon the surface of life. 

A moment of startled questioning by those who lived in the immediateneighborhood; a few women with aprons thrown over their headscongregating in groups around the pump, or before the door of thebakery; a crowd of dirty children, stopping their play for a moment, andspeaking lower;--then the tide of noisy, fighting, swearing life wenton. 

One was gone out from it. Whither? None knew, few cared; and there weresuch crowds and _crowds_ left, how could he be missed?

One missed him, --an abused, insulted, downtrodden woman. One whom, yearsbefore, he had promised to love and cherish until death parted them, andhad broken the vows almost as soon as taken, and never renewed themagain. Yet that woman wept bitter tears over his absence; watched forhim, listened nightly for his staggering footsteps; rose up from herheap of straw in the corner in the middle of the night, and set wideopen the cellar door, and listened to the angry voices floating down toher from some drunken brawl further up the street, if, perchance, shemight hear _his_; listened, and held her breath, and quivered allover with hope and fear: then crept back to her miserable bed, coveredher head with the ragged quilt, and cried herself into a few hours offorgetfulness. 

"She is crying herself to death about him!" Mart said. There wassurprise mingled with awe in her voice. 

She told it to Dirk, and the two stood thoughtfully for a moment lookingout at the one window. They carefully avoided looking at each other. They did not understand. To them there was simply relief in the father'sabsence. They had no trace of love for him in their hearts. The word"father" meant nothing to them but misery. Still there was that in themwhich respected the mother's grief; they tried to shield her. Dirk, ofhis own thoughtfulness, brought home a bit of tea in a paper, and boughthalf a pint of milk at the corner bakery; and Mart took lessons ofSallie, and made a delicate slice of toast, and borrowed Sallie's onecup and saucer to serve the tea in. She was disappointed that the mothercried, and could hardly drink the tea. She was even almost vexed thatthe mother said with tears that "poor Jock always did like tea so_much_, and she had always thought that maybe if he could have hadit hot and strong he would not have taken to the drink. "

Mart had no faith in this, no belief that anything in her father's pastlife could have kept him from the drink; but she held herself silent, and let the tears have their way. All the time she had in her heart onegreat solemn regret. There was one who would have helped her father;would and could have saved him, even from rum. What if she, hisdaughter, had known the Lord Jesus, and could have taken the miserablefather to Him and had him transformed! Mart had no doubt about_His_ power to do it. An unanswerable argument had been given her. No infidel need try to assail her now. 

But the father! Why had everybody kept silence, and let him sink away?

Awful!

Why had not she known Christ? Why had she not listened to Sallie but aweek before? Why had not Dirk learned the way and saved his father? Anawful problem! Mart's life must henceforth be shadowed by it. 

Meantime what was Mrs. Roberts to do for this new-born soul? How was sheto help her, and, through her, to help her brother?

She, in her elegant home, sat down to study this problem. 

Life at East Fifty-fifth Street was so far removed from life in thealley that she knew nothing about the missing father. Days passed, and, busy with many claims of society, she had made no movement towardhelping the girl, and knew as yet no way to do it; yet she carried heron her heart. Monday evening came and went, and still she had beendetained from any effort. 

One afternoon her thoughts shaped themselves into action. She would goand see Mart. She would get Dirk to protect her in her journey down thealley; also, in accomplishing this, she would accomplish another thing. She would call on Dirk at his place of business. The chief of the officewas a Christian man; yet she had reason to believe that he knew lessabout Dirk, and cared much less for him, than he did for his little dog, who sat in the window and barked at passers-by. 

She had no difficulty in securing attention. Ladies were not oftenadmitted, but a card bearing the name "Mrs. Evan Roberts" was sufficientpassport among any of the business men of the city. 

Mr. Stone was more than ready, he was eager to serve her. What could hedo for the elegantly-dressed lady whose carriage waited at the door, while she came in person among the bales and boxes? Her business must beurgent. 

It was. Could she speak with Mr. Colson just for a moment? She would notdetain him long; but she wished to make an appointment with him for thenext day. 

"Mr. Colson!" The chief and his perplexed assistant looked at each otherthoughtfully, and shook their heads. There was no such person connectedwith their establishment. She must have the wrong number. 

No; she was positive. 

"He told me only three days ago that he was in your employ. He is on thethird floor, I believe. "

The gentlemen looked at each other again. 

"Colson!" repeated Mr. Stone. "There is certainly a mistake. Briggs isin charge on the third floor front, and Dickson has the back rooms. No, Mrs. Roberts, we have no such name among our men, I am positive. "

But Mrs. Roberts gently held her ground. She was sure she was notmistaken, for she had talked with him about his work and the differentmen. He was in Mr. Briggs' department, she felt quite sure. He was not aforeman, she explained, but quite a young man; had been there but a fewweeks, and Dr. Everett was the one who had interested himself insecuring the place. 

Light of some sort began to dawn on the perplexed faces of thegentlemen. 

"Can she mean black Dirk, do you suppose?" questioned the elder, lookinghard at his associate. 

Then came the sweet voice of the visitor. 

"Oh, no; he is not a colored gentleman. His name is Colson, --Mr. DerrickColson. "

"That is the one, " said the gentleman, quickly. Should he laugh or beannoyed?

It took but a moment after that to summon "Mr. Derrick Colson. " Black hewas, certainly, not only by reason of his naturally dark skin, butbecause of the grimy work, whatever it was, which fell to his lot. Hisbig apron was soiled with ink and oil, and daubed with bits of darkcolor which seemed not to be either. 

He came forward with his usual shambling gait, and an additional shadeof sullenness apparent on his face, but it glowed a swarthy red when herecognized the lady. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Colson, " she said, and she held forth herdelicately-gloved hand. 

His own went forward to meet it; then drew suddenly back. 

"It is not clean enough, " he said; "there's ink or something on it. "'

But the lavender kids were not withdrawn. 

"Never mind the ink; a little honest soil never hurt anybody, " and therough, dark hand was taken in her own. 

Then occurred a few moments' chat; at least the lady chatted with easyfamiliarity. She referred to the "Social Parlors, " to the "MondayEvenings, " to Miss Dennis' "Musicale, " to half a dozen themes aboutwhich the bewildered gentlemen within hearing knew nothing. 

Could it be that the low-voiced, gentle lady was trying to give_them_ a lesson as well as to talk with Dirk? Finally she made anappointment for the next afternoon. Would his employer be so kind as toexcuse him for an hour, if convenient? Certainly, it would be convenientto please Mrs. Evan Roberts. 

Dirk was very much embarrassed. He blushed and stammered, and did notknow how to answer any of the kindnesses; but there were two thingsduring the interview which gave Mrs. Roberts more pleasure than you, perhaps, are able to understand. 

One was, that at sight of her he had suddenly snatched off the paper capwhich he wore, and the other, that having set it again on his head as heturned from her, he glanced back from the door, and, in answer to herbow and smile, lifted the ugly little cap with an air that was an exactimitation of young Ried, and yet so well done that you would not havethought of it as an imitation. 

Mrs. Roberts could have clapped her hands; but she did not. Instead shesaid, sweetly:--

"I am very glad that Mr. Colson is in the employ of a Christiangentleman. He is greatly in need of help from all Christian sources, andI am sure there is that in him which will respond to judicious effort. "

Then she let the bewildered man attend her to her carriage, and went herway rejoicing. 

 * * * * *

But there were plans being laid for her at that moment of which she knewnothing. 

To-morrow she would go and see the golden-haired girl. In aneatly-packed basket she had certain things, among them a bonnet and asack that she knew would fit the hair and face, and she believed wouldgive Mart pleasure. If only she could contrive a natural way to givethem to her, and there could be planned ways of keeping them safe fromthe pawnbroker's grasp. All this time she knew nothing of the fact thatthe hand which had grasped for years to furnish the pawnbroker wasstilled forever. It had not once occurred to Dirk to tell her. It is asolemn fact that in this greater excitement he had actually forgottenit! As for the "Christian employer, " he did not know of it to tell. Hehad not so much as known whether black Dirk had a father or not. He wassimply a street rough, whom Dr. Everett was trying experiments with; andbecause there was an unusual pressure on the office, and poor help wasbetter than none, he was helping the experiment. 

However, when Dirk went home from the office that night he rememberedthat the father was gone. 

Mart met him at the door, a look of solemn determination on her face. 

"Dirk, " she said, "_she's_ going; as sure as you live, she's going. She's been bad all the afternoon. Sallie says that Mark's doctor willcome to see her, --she knows he will, and Mark shall go for him as soonas he comes home; but I don't mean to wait for no doctor. I want_her_ to come. _She_ knows the way, and I want mother to betold it right, so there won't be no mistake. You go for her, Dirk, rightoff straight. There ain't any time to lose, for I tell you now she's_going_. She's been failing all along, you know, and she has justcried herself down. Dirk, will you go for _her_ as fast as youcan?"

The confusion of pronouns might have bewildered you. They did not Dirk. "_Her_" meant to him exactly what it did to Mart. He could notthink how it could possibly mean any other person. But this wasastounding news about his mother! It was one thing to have a fatherdisappear, whom he had simply feared, until he had learned to hate; itwas quite another thing to talk about the going away of the only one whohad ever tried to mend his clothes, and who had sat up nights to washthem when she could. 

He strode past Mart into the wretched room, and looked at the bed in thecorner. 

The mother was asleep, but on her face was a strange change--a somethingthat he had never seen there before, worn and sunken as it always was. It made him understand Mart's fears. 

"I'll go, " he said huskily, and rushed from the house. 

"_Her_" carriage was just rolling down the avenue as his swift feetcleared the alley. He knew the horses. He was a little ahead of them;but it was not probable that the driver would stop for him. 

"Won't you stop that carriage?" he said in breathless haste to apoliceman at the corner; "I've got to speak to the lady that's in it. "

"I'll be quite likely to, no doubt!" said the policeman, in quiet irony. "What rascality are you up to now, Dirk? _Can't_ you be decent fora few days?"

But Dirk was trying to free himself from the detaining hand, and threwup one arm in a sort of despairing gesture to the coachman. Mr. Robertscaught the signal, recognized the face, and in another moment the horsesstood restlessly by the curb-stone, and Dirk, his embarrassment gone, told his brief story rapidly. 

"Father went off a spell ago, and never came back; and mother, she issickly, and it set her crying; and she's _going_, Mart thinks, andI guess it's so; and Mart wants you to come and show her the way. Shesaid you knew how, and you would come. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

"MAY SHE GO WITH ME?"

Of course she went. And, of course, now that the truth was known, muchwas done. Dr. Everett was summoned. The wretched bed, with itsdistressing rags, were turned out together, and a comfortable one tookits place. Broths and teas and jellies and physical comfort of everykind were furnished, and the doctor did his best to battle with thedisease that long years of want and misery had fastened upon theirvictim. It was all too late, of course. It was true, what Mr. Robertssadly said, that half of the effort, expended years or even monthsbefore, might have saved the poor, tortured life; but now!

How awful those "too lates" are! Isn't it a wonder that we ever take therisk of having one ring in our ears forever? There was one thing overwhich some of these Christian workers shed tears of joy. 

"_I_ am too late, " said Dr. Everett, "but my Master has as muchpower to-day as ever. He can save her. "

And He did. The poor, tired woman, who years before had remembered anold story well enough to name her one daughter "Martha, " in memory ofthe one who "loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, " roused her dullheart at the mention of His name, and listened while the wonderful storywas told her that He loved not only Martha and her sister, but her ownpoor, sinful, wrecked self; loved her enough to reach after her, andcall and wait, and prepare for her a home in His glory. 

Dear! Why has not some one come with the news before? Surely she wouldhave listened during these long, sad years. Well, they made the wayplain. Neither was it a difficult thing to do. The woman was weary andtravel-stained and afraid, and longed for nothing so much as a place ofrefuge. She knew that she was a sinner; she knew that she was, and hadbeen for many a year, powerless to help herself. Why should she not hailwith joy the story of a great and willing Helper?

"Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden. " She opened hereyes with a gleam of eagerness to hear the words. "Weary?"' Yes, indeed!"Heavy laden?" Who more so? If the call was not for her, whom_could_ it mean? What else? Why, what, but the glorious old story, "I will give you rest?" What wonder that she closed her eyes and smiled!What wonder that the first words after that were: "I'll come; show mehow. " And He showed her how. 

"Dirk, " the sister said, when the mother had gone the last and onlyrestful journey of her life, "Dirk, _she_ went to heaven; and I'mgoing. I've been wanting to tell you for more than a week, but I didn'tknow how. _He_ asked me to, and I'm going. Now _you_ must. 'Cause we never had a good time here, and she'll kind of expect it inheaven, and be looking out for you; she always looked out for you, Dirk. "

Then did Dirk lose his half-sullen self-control, and great tears rolleddown his dark cheeks. 

But the sister shed no tears. She had serious business to attend to. Dirk must go to heaven now without fail. 

 * * * * *

One day there was an unusual scene in the alley. It was no uncommonthing to see a coffin carried out from there, but on this day there wasa hearse, and a minister in Dr. Everett's carriage, and Dirk and hissister, in neat apparel, came out together and were seated in Mr. Roberts' carriage; and all the boys of the Monday-evening Class walkedarm in arm after the slow-moving carriages; and the children of thealley stopped their placing and their fighting, and the women stoodsilent in doorways, and took, most of them, their very first lesson inthe proprieties of life. 

"She's got a ride in a carriage at last, poor soul!" said one, thinkingof the worn-out body in the coffin; and another said: "I wonder whatpoor old Jock would think of all this?"

But the scene made its impression, and left its lesson. I think thevoices of some of them were lower during the rest of the day because ofit. 

What next? It was the question that filled Mrs. Roberts' thoughts. Something must be done for Dirk and Mart. That fearful alley was noplace for human beings; certainly not for these two. But what to do withthem was a question not easily answered. 

Various plans were proposed. Sallie Calkins' two rooms were much betterthan the cellar in which the Colson family had lived; and there was achance to rent a room next to Sallie's, with a closet opening from itfor Dirk. How would it do to have them board with Sallie? The suggestioncame first from Gracie Dennis, and sounded reasonable. Mrs. Roberts wasalmost ashamed to dislike it as much as she did. Sallie's neat roomswere _home_ now. The father, for this length of time at least, heldto his pledge; and son and daughter were radiant over him. He had goneto work, and already the two rooms were taking on an air of greatercomfort because of the little things that he proudly brought home. 

Sallie was doing her part wisely. The table was regularly laid now, witha white cloth and knives and forks; and two new cups and plates had beenadded to the dishes. Would it be wise to invade this home just at thisjuncture and introduce boarders? Mrs. Roberts did not believe that itwould. It was not as though the father had an established character, andstood ready to shield his children; they were still acting theprotective, and he had but too recently risen from the depths where Dirkand Mart had laughed and jeered at him. Besides, the rooms were locatedin that dreadful alley; and, do what she would, Mrs. Roberts could notfeel that that dangerously-beautiful face could find a safeabiding-place in that alley. Some other way must be thought of. 

Their immediate future was arranged through the intervention of a houseagent; for even that dreary and desolate cellar had its agent, who waseager to secure his rent. He was unwise enough to undertake to interviewMrs. Roberts as she descended from her carriage, not long after it hadfollowed Mart's mother to the grave. 

He considered this effort of his a special stroke of business energy. Hewanted to be patient with the poor, he said; there wasn't an agent inthe city who waited for them oftener than he did; but business wasbusiness, and it stood to reason that he could not depend on a fellowlike Dirk. It had been bad enough when the mother was there, but hecouldn't think of such a thing as risking it now. What was he tounderstand? Did she mean to rent the room for them, and for how long?Because it was his duty to look out for the future. 

What would be more natural than for Mrs. Roberts, with those two youngthings looking on, to say that of course she would be responsible forthe rent as long as they lived in the room? Thus reasoned the houseagent. 

Instead of which, Mrs. Roberts turned toward Dirk, her face flushed overthe hardness of a man who could stop a boy and girl on such business ontheir way from their mother's grave, and said:--

"If I were in your place, Mr. Colson, I should not rent these rooms atall. They are not suited to your sister's needs. I am sure you can dobetter. "

The agent was disgusted. "_Mr. _ Colson, " indeed! The disreputableyoung scamp whom nobody trusted. He would show this silly woman a factor two. 

"Business is business" he repeated, doggedly. "Either they must take theroom, and pay the rent in advance, or else they must hustle out thisvery night. " He had waited now three days after time for decency's sake, and more than that he couldn't and wouldn't do. 

Dirk stood looking from one to the other; the red coming and going onhis swarthy face. Here was responsibility! He had not thought of itbefore. The mother was not there to count out the hoarded rent withtrembling fingers, and save the wretched home to them for another month. She would never be there again. He had nothing with which to pay rent;he had nowhere to move. Yet _she_ had called him Mr. Colson, andseemed to expect him to act for himself and Mart. 

It was she who answered the agent, but she spoke to Dirk. 

"Very well; I suppose you are quite as willing to leave here to-night asat any time? If I were you, I would leave immediately. Let your sistercome home with me for the night, and until you have time to make otherarrangements. "

Mr. Roberts had been summoned to a bank meeting, and had sent Ried toattend his wife. He came forward now, from the carriage where he hadstood waiting, and laid a hand on Dirk's arm. 

"And you come home with me to-night, Colson, " he said in a cordial tone, such as he might have used with any young friend; "then we shall have achance to talk things over and make plans. "

"That is nice, " Mrs. Roberts said, quickly, rejoicing in her heart overRied's promptness to act. "Then you can get away from this wretchedplace at once. Mr. Roberts will see to the removal of your goods, whatever you need, and the agent can call on him in the morning. Thatwill be the simplest way to settle it all. May she go with me?"

A slight, caressing movement of a gloved hand on the girl's armaccompanied this question. 

Mart was silent with bewilderment. When had Dirk ever before been askedwhat _she_ might do, or might not do? At first she was halfinclined to scorn the suggestion. Then, suddenly, it came to her with asense of relief and protection: she was not alone; it was Dirk'sbusiness to think of and care for her. Would he do it?

As for Dirk, no wonder that his face was deeply flushed. New thoughtswere struggling in his heart. _He_ was to decide for Mart; he wasthe head of the home now. Mrs. Roberts waited anxiously. She longedexceedingly to rouse in the boy, who was already grown to the stature ofa man, a sense of responsibility. 

A moment more, and he had shaken himself free from the spell whichseemed to bind him. 

"We'll do as you say. " He spoke with the air of a man who had assumedhis proper place and taken up his duties. "Mart, you go along with her, and I'll see about things to-morrow. "

And Mart, for the first time in her life, received and obeyed in silencea direction from her brother. 

Possibly Mrs. Roberts may have been mistaken, but she thought that muchhad been accomplished that day. 

Yet none of them realized whereunto this thing would grow. 

Mrs. Roberts, when she ushered Mart that evening into the pink roomagain, and showed her how to manage the hot and cold water, and whichbell to ring if she needed anything, and in every imaginable way treatedher as a guest, whom it was pleasant to serve, had really no plans justthen--no hobby to ride--but simply acted out the dictates of her heart. You will remember that her Christian life had been alwaysunconventional. The very fact that during her early girlhood she hadbeen painfully trammelled by what "they" would say or think, seemed tohave had its influence over her later experiences. Since she had beenmade free, she would be free, indeed; that is, with the liberty withwhich Christ makes us free. What would please _Him_ she resolvedshould be the one thought to which she would give careful attention. Now, it is perhaps worthy of mention, that this closely followingdisciple did not once stop to determine whether it would please Him togive such tender care to this stray child of His, or whether she wouldbe considered doing not just the thing, in _His_ eyes, if sheentertained her in the pink room. 

About what He could have her do next, she gave much thought. And it wasnot for days, or rather weeks, that she caught the possibility of Hismeaning that the pink room should really be the girl's own. 

It was just this way. The weeks went by, and no plan for settling Martcomfortably elsewhere met Mrs. Roberts' approval. There was constantlysome excellent reason why the one mentioned would not do. 

Meantime they became, she and Gracie Dennis, more and more deeplyinterested in Mart. In her wardrobe first. "Wherever she lives sheshould have respectable clothing; thus much is easily settled. " So thematron decreed, and Gracie did not gainsay it. She became absorbed inpreparing it. Such fascinating work! So many things were needed, and herskin was so delicate, and her eyes so blue, and Gracie's choice ofshades and textures fitted her so precisely. Then, when dressed, simplethough her toilet was, her remarkable beauty shone out so conspicuouslyas to alarm Mrs. Roberts whenever she thought of her in shop or store. 

Several times during the weeks, she visited Sallie Calkins, and lookedabout her with a thoughtful air, and came away feeling that it would notdo. There was Mark, growing into manhood, a good boy, hard-working, respectable, proud of his good, homely sister, and of his reformedfather. The two rooms were taking on every sort of homely comfort thatSallie's skill, helped by Mrs. Roberts' suggestions, could devise. Itwas growing into a model little home in its way, but there was not acorner in it where Mart would fit. 

Then, as the days passed, a subtle, fascinating change began to comeover Mart. She slipped quietly into certain household duties. She showedmarvellous skill with her needle; such skill, indeed, that Gracie Dennissaid more than once: "I'll tell you, Flossy, what to do with her: puther in a good establishment, and let her learn the dressmaking trade. She could make her fortune in time. " And Mrs. Roberts smiled, andassented to the statement, but not to the proposition. There was nodressmaking establishment known to her where she was willing to place soyoung and pretty and ignorant a girl. But she was quite willing thatMart should learn the looping of dresses, and the fitting of sacks andcollars and ruffles; and take many a stitch for her, as well as forGracie. She was willing to have her do a dozen little nameless things, the ways of doing which she had caught up; until at last the touch ofher fingers began to be felt about the rooms, and Mrs. Roberts began tonotice that she should miss Mart when she went away. Still, from thefirst time she said this, the thought came afterward with a smile ofsatisfaction, and it was but a week afterward that she caught herselfphrasing it, that she should miss her _if_ she went away. 

What about Dirk? Young Ried could have told you more of him during thesedays than anybody else. He still stayed at the boarding-house. Mrs. Saunders, the mistress of it, was one whom, if you had known her, youwould feel sure could interest herself heartily in such as he. There wasa bit of a room next to Ried's. To be sure, it had been used for aclothes-press, and it took the busy housekeeper half a day to plan howshe could get along without it; but she planned, and offered it to Riedfor his _protégé_. 

"Just for the present, you know, until he sees what he can do, poorfellow, " she said, and Ried accepted the little room joyfully, andhelped fit it up. 

CHAPTER XXIX

"WHAT IF I BELONGED?"

You think things are taking very rapid strides? Well, don't you knowthat there come periods when they do just that thing, or appear to? Why, even the buds on the trees teach us the lesson. How many springtimeshave you gone to your bed feeling that the season was late, and thetrees were bare, and the fruits would all be backward, and Nature wasdawdling along in a very wearisome fashion; and awakened in the morningto find that there had in the night been a gentle rain, and a movementof mysterious power among the buds and the grasses, and that now, in themorning sunshine, the world had burst into bloom? Yet, did you reallysuppose, after all, that the _work_ was done in one night?

There was progress of several sorts in the class at the South End. Evena casual observer could have seen a change in the boys that first Sundayafter they had attended Dirk's mother to the grave. The dignity of thathour of sorrow was still upon them. Even the very reckless andworld-hardened will offer a certain degree of respect to death. Onordinary occasions, the boys might have been merry at Dirk's expense, for they saw changes in him; but the memory of his mother's coffin keptthem silent, and let his changed manner have its effect. 

That Sunday was full of small events to Dirk; at least they are smallenough when one puts them on paper, though I admit that they lookedlarge to him. Several people interested themselves in his welfare. 

"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Saunders, "I suppose his mother tried to do forhim. Just as likely as not she had a clean shirt for him of a Sundaymorning. "'

You will perceive that Mrs. Saunders, though all her life a resident ofa large city, was not very well-acquainted with the abject poor. Inpoint of fact, Dirk Colson had had no extra clothing for his mother tomake clean. But Mrs. Saunders, full of the motherly thought, yet findingno trace of a shirt in the bundle of rags that Dirk had brought withhim, went down one day into the depths of an old trunk, and brought tolight and mended and washed and ironed a shirt that had long been laidaside. 

It lay in its purity on a chair at the foot of Dirk's bed on Sabbathmorning. He lay still and looked at it for a while, then arose and gavesuch careful attention to the soap and water as was new to him, andarrayed himself in the clean linen. 

His clothes were whole and clean. Mr. Roberts had seen to it that hewent respectably dressed to his mother's funeral. 

A tap at his door a little later, and young Ried appeared, shoe-brushand blacking-box in hand. 

"Want to borrow?" he said, in the careless tone of one who might havesupposed that the blacking of his boots was an every-day matter to thisboy. "I always keep my own; it is cheaper than to depend on the streetboys. "

Dirk said nothing at all, but reached forth his hand, and took theoffered tools, and the hint which came with them. When he went down tobreakfast his boots shone, and his fresh paper collar was neatlyarranged; altogether he was not the boy to whom I first introduced you. I am not sure that Policeman Duffer would have recognized him. A collarand a necktie make a great difference in some people's personalappearance. Dirk wondered a little as to where the box of paper collarscame from. The necktie he had just found lying in the bottom of the box. It was the mate of the one young Ried wore, but that told nothing, forboth were simple and plain, and could be bought by the dozens in anyfurnishing store. 

It is small wonder that the boys in the class looked at him. Nimble Dickwore at first a roguish air, but a sudden memory of Dirk's face when heturned away from his mother's grave came in time. Open graves are noteasy things to forget. 

Dirk went to the church that day; went with young Ried by invitation, and sat in the pew behind Mr. Roberts. 

By the way, the seat which he occupied was another of Mr. Roberts'peculiarities. Three seats were rented by him in a central part of thelarge church. One of these seats he and his wife regularly occupied. Theothers were almost as regularly occupied by the clerks from the storewho chose to make that their church home. Six sittings to a pew. When ayoung man chose, Mr. Roberts was ready to enter into a businessengagement with him, whereby the sitting should be considered his own;Mr. Roberts considering it to be no part of any one's concern that thesum for which he thus sub-let the sittings was not a tenth of what thefirst rental cost. It was in this way that Mr. Ried owned sittings inthe pew just back of that occupied by Mr. Roberts; and brought with himconstantly one and another young man. Today the young man was DirkColson. 

It was all a strange world to him. He had wandered into the gallery ofthe Mission Chapel, and looked down from his perch on the crowd ofworshippers; but this morning he was in the very centre of things, as ifhe were one of them. Perhaps it is not strange that the startled inquirycame to his heart: What if I belonged? Where did he belong now? He hadlost his place; he must make another. What if it should be in thisneighborhood, among these surroundings? Such thoughts did not takeactual shape to him, so that he could have put them into words; theymerely hovered in his atmosphere. Mrs. Roberts sat so that he could lookat her, which thing he liked to do. It had long since been settled inhis mind that he had one friend, and that one was Mrs. Roberts. Headmired Gracie Dennis, too, with a different sort of admiration fromthat which he gave to the matron. She might be all very well; and shewas a splendid reader; and he knew that he could imitate her on certainsentences, at least. And she had taught him to use the type-writer--anaccomplishment which he meant to perfect himself in as soon as he had achance. In fact, his ambition reached higher than that: one of thesedays he meant to make one of his own with certain improvements! Whoshall say that Dirk was not growing?

On this particular day there sat beside Mrs. Roberts a lady, --a stranger. He could not see her face, but for some reason, which he did notunderstand, Dirk liked to look at her. She suggested something to himthat seemed like a familiar dream. He thought much about her, andresolved to see if in her face she looked like any one he ever saw. Asshe turned at the close of the service he was looking at her steadily. Lo! it was Mart. 

Now the possibility had not once suggested itself to his mind. If youthink this doubtful, you merely show that you know nothing about thetransforming effect of a becoming dress, no matter how simple it may be. Remember, Dirk had never but twice seen his sister in a bonnet. Thefirst time it was Sallie's, and though the effect was sufficientlystartling, yet Sallie's bonnet did not fit her face, as this creation ofGracie Dennis' fingers did. The second time the bonnet had been ahideous black one, proffered by an old woman who lived in the storyabove them, and whose thoughtfulness Mrs. Roberts would not mar bymaking any mention of the neat one which she had brought in a box thatday. The black bonnet had been like a mask, hiding Mart's beauty. 

The bonnet that she wore now was not of that character. It told awonderful story to Dirk's astonished gaze. Now, indeed, the likeness wasplain; without doubt, the girl whose face lighted with a curious smileat sight of him, bore a striking likeness to the woman who had smiled athim whenever she met him!

A curious effect this had on Dirk. There was that in his sister whichmade it possible for her to be something like the woman who had won hisheart; and that sister was in his care: she had said so; he must workfor her, and watch over her!

I suppose that Sabbath was really the beginning of the surface changesin Mrs. Roberts' class. Not the beginning to the teacher, but to thosepeople who only have eyes for strongly marked things. 

I know that it was but a few weeks afterward that Mrs. Roberts came homewith such an unusual light in her eyes, and with her face so full ofbrightness, that her husband said, inquiringly:--

"What is it, Flossy?"

She turned to him, eagerly, ready to laugh. 

"It is what you will understand, but a great many people wouldn't. It isso nice that you understand things! I feel just like saying, 'Thank theLord. '"

"Do you mean to convey the idea that only a very few favored people feellike that? I don't know of a person who has not great occasion. What isyour special one?"

"Evan, the last boy had his boots blacked, and a fresh paper collar on!"

Mr. Roberts threw back his head and laughed, --a genial, hearty laugh. His wife looked on, smiling. There is a great deal of character in alaugh, remember; you would have known that this was a sympathetic one. 

Mr. Roberts was entirely capable of realizing what this said to his wifeabout the future of her boys. It was becoming certain that theirself-respect was awakened. 

A few days thereafter occurred another of those little things which marksome characters. 

Dirk, at Mrs. Saunders' breakfast-table on Sabbath morning, heard talkthat on Monday he recalled. By the way, I should have told you of oneother way in which the Sabbath became a marked day to him. He slept inthe little room which opened from Ried's, but his meals were picked upat a restaurant, as occasion offered, --a much nicer and surer method ofliving than he had ever known before. Even the commonest restaurant hadgreat respectability to him. Yet you will remember that he had by thistime taken several suppers in Mrs. Roberts' dining-room. He knew thatthere was a difference in things; in fact, his experience now stretchedover infinite differences; but the first time he sat down to Mrs. Saunders' breakfast-table, on a Sabbath morning, he discovered anothergrade: this by no means belonged to the restaurant class? The Sundaybreakfasts and dinners were some of Mrs. Saunders' quiet ways of helpingalong the work of the Christian world. Many a young man appeared at hertable as the guest of Ried or of Dr. Everett, or of some other of theboarders, who was unaware that he owed the pleasant experience to thelandlady. 

Well, Dirk at the Sabbath-table heard talk of one General Burton, famousas a soldier, a scholar, and an orator. General Burton was in the city, the guest of a prominent man; he was to speak on the following eveningin one of the great halls, and much eager talk was had concerning him;great desire was expressed to hear him, to get a glimpse of him. Dirklistened in silence, but had his own thoughts about what it must be tohave people talking about one, wanting to get a glimpse of one, andnext, what it must be to be intimate with such people. Did Mrs. Robertsknow the great man? he wondered. And then Dirk smiled as he thought howqueer it was that he should know Mrs. Roberts; that he might, in fact, be called intimately acquainted with her!

Remembering this reverie of his, you will better understand how he felton Monday morning, as he made his way in haste down a quiet part of oneof the up-town streets, intent on an errand that required promptness, tohear his name called by Mrs. Roberts. 

"Good morning!" she said. "Are you in too great haste to recognize yourfriends? I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. General Burton, Mr. Colson. General, this is one of my young men, of whom I told you. "

Whereupon the famous general, hero of many battles, held out his honoredhand, and took Dirk's in a cordial grasp. I don't suppose I couldexplain to you what an effect this action had on a boy like Dirk. 

There is this comfort: you may be a student of human nature, andtherefore may understand it all without explanation. 

This is only one of many so-called trifles which occurred during theweeks, to make their indelible impress on the characters of the boys. 

Of course, the Monday Evenings prospered. Reading-lessons andwriting-lessons, and, as time passed, lessons of all sorts made goodprogress. 

Neatly-blackened boots, carefully-arranged hair, and fresh collarsbecame the rule instead of the exception. 

Other avenues for improvement opened. It became noised abroad inChristian circles that great transformations were being worked among acertain set of hard young fellows who had hitherto been best known tothe police. Mr. Roberts was interviewed by one and another, and oneoutgrowth of the talks was that tickets for a course of expensive andvaluable and attractive lectures on popular subjects were placed inlarge numbers in Mr. Roberts' hands for him to use at discretion. Moreover, seats were rented in the church towards which most of the boysgravitated--the one connected with their Mission; seats re-rented afterMr. Roberts' plan, so that as often as there appeared a young man whocared to have a spot in the church which belonged to him, it could behad for a very small sum; in fact, as pews rented in that church, aridiculously small sum. 

These are only hints of the channels which time and patience and thoughtopened for these young men, on whom, but a short time before, Satanbelieved himself to have so firm a grip. 

One feature of the "Monday Evenings" had, in the course of time, to bechanged. The young teacher of elocution went home. 

"I want to go, " she said at last, in answer to her hostess' pleading. "Ithink it quite likely that papa would let me stay and attend schoolhere; but I am in haste to get home. You need not look sober, Flossy. Ihave had a happier time than I have ever had in my life before; and Ihave found here a sort of happiness that will last. It almost breaks myheart to think of leaving those boys, --especially my dear Dick Bolton;but really, I need to go home and undo certain things that I left badlydone. You don't half know me, Flossy Shipley. When I came here I was aregular goose. If you had known what a simpleton I was, and how hatefulI had been about some things at home, you would never have invited me. 

"Among other things that were hateful about me, I was a real horror tomy mother. I thought I had reason to distrust and dislike her; when thetruth is that I have cause to go down on my knees and thank her forkeeping me from some things. I'm in a real hurry to get home, and showthat young mother of mine what a perfectly angelic daughter I can be. "

And Mrs. Roberts smiled and kept her own counsel; and this was all thatshe was supposed to know about her young guest. She never knew the wholestory about Professor Ellis; though there was a girl, Hester Mason byname, in Dr. Everett's Sabbath-school, who could have told her a gooddeal about him, and about Gracie Dennis' helping to break the net thatSatan had woven for her unwary feet. The fact is, there is a great dealconcerning all these people--Hester Mason and Dr. Everett and JoySaunders and Joy Saunders' mother--which I should have liked to tellyou if I could have found room. You may read of them any time, however, if you choose, in a book called "An Endless Chain. " Of course, the storyof their lives does not end even _there_, because the chain is, asI said, _endless_; but there are many of the links presented toview. 

So Grace Dennis went home. And neither then, nor afterward, did Mrs. Roberts hear in detail the story of Professor Ellis. What matter? Shehad, however, a short added chapter. It came in a letter from Mrs. Marion Dennis not long after Gracie's return. It read thus. --

Oh, Flossy Shipley Roberts! blessed little scheming saint that you are!What did you do? How did you do it! Ah! I know more about it than thosesentences would indicate. The dear Lord did it, working through you, Hisservant. He has called our Gracie to higher ground, filled her heartwith that which has made insignificant things take their true place, andwrong things show for what they are. 

You know, of course, that it is all right about Professor Ellis;--or no!I fear it is all wrong about him, but right with our Gracie. I hear thathe has permanently located in your city. Perhaps your Christian charitycan reach him. He sent Gracie a letter, trying to explain certainaffairs about that Mason girl, with which I presume you are familiar. She showed me the letter and her answer. He will not write her another!

"_I_ don't know any Mason girl, " said Mrs. Roberts to her husband, "but it doesn't matter. I don't want to know the story if there isnothing to be done through it. There are stories enough that one_must_ know. "

CHAPTER XXX. 

"IT IS NO MADE-UP AFFAIR"

It was Monday evening, and there was company at Mr. Roberts' home;not the usual Monday evening gathering, but quite a large party ofwell-dressed men and women, many of them young, yet some weremiddle-aged. The pretty room opposite the conservatory was thrown open, and aglow with lights and flowers; and groups were continually passingin and out, admiring the paintings and the flowers, and the type-writersof different patterns, and the books and magazines, of which there weremany. But interest was not confined to this room. The parlors werethrown open and the music-room beyond; even the cosy little library waspublic property for this one evening. The company was large, and theirtastes were varied; so no pains had been spared to give them variety. 

You are acquainted with quite a number of the guests; yet I am by nomeans sure that you would recognize them all. Even in so short a periodof time as three years, great changes may be elicited!

For instance, do you know the young man in unnoticeable, and thereforeappropriate, evening dress, who is doing duty at the piano, watchingwith practiced eye the course of the player, and turning the leaf withskilful hand at just the right moment? It is a somewhat embarrassingposition; but his manner leads you to suppose that he has beenaccustomed to it all his life, and that he reads music well. In thelatter belief you are correct; but as to being accustomed to it--threeyears ago Nimble Dick could have told you a different story!

You can't believe that it is he? I do not wonder. The change iscertainly a great one; but he does not feel it. To tell you the truth, he almost forgets, when he becomes absorbed in his work, that this sortof society was not always open to him. Three years means a long time tothe young; and Richard Bolton has so long been accustomed to the freedomof Mrs. Roberts' parlors, and to the sort of people whom one findsthere, that none of the refinements of polite life are strange to him;and as to turning music, has he not done it for his hostess numberlesstimes?

If your eyes are now opened, it is possible that you may be trying tospy out other young men. The rooms are full of them, elegantly-dressed, fashionable young men; but a few are noticeable by the air which theyhave of being in a sense responsible for the comfort of the others. Theyare on the alert; they are taking care that no young guest shall appearfor a moment to be forgotten or neglected. They appear to be entirelyfamiliar with the house and all its appointments. They can be appealedto for a glass of water or an ice, or to know what special scene thislandscape hanging over the mantel represents, or whose bust this is inthe niche at the left, or in what portion of the library a certain bookwill be found, or from what part of the foreign world thatstrangely-shaped shell came, and they are all equally at home. In short, it is like having a dozen or twenty young hosts to look after yourcomfort and pleasure. In point of fact, there are seventeen of them. Theoriginal seven has thus increased. Two months ago there were twenty, butone has secured an appointment as telegraph operator in a distant city, and as Stephen Crowley occupies a similar position in one of the officesin this city, some very interesting conversations are held, and manyimportant items connected with the "Monday Evenings" and the South EndSchool and the "Library Association, " etc. , are transmitted when thelines are not otherwise employed. Young Haskell, too, has gone with oneof the partners from the store where he was first employed, to set up abranch store in a not distant town; and his old Sabbath-school teacherhas already received letters from him, saying that they have started abranch Sunday-school in the south part of the town, and that he haspicked seven little wretches out of the streets, from eight to twelveyears of age, and gone to work. "And, dear Mrs. Roberts, I wish youwould pray for me, that I may be able to bring every one of them toChrist. "

So the letter ran; and that tells volumes to the initiated about youngHaskell. 

But although the changes among these young men have been great almost tobewilderment, only one of the number has been promoted to a dazzlingheight. The others are without exception earning good, honest livingsfor themselves; securing good, substantial educations through theevening classes which have grown out of that first effort; bidding fairto become leading and honored citizens when they actually take theirplaces as men. But Mark Calkins, faithful, plodding, good-hearted, patient Mark, has surpassed them all! The truth is "that eye hath notseen, nor ear heard, neither hath entered into the heart, " what sort ofmagnificence surrounds him now. He has gone to court. The chief Ruler ofthe realm has sent for Mark to be always in his immediate presence inthe palace; and with what joy he went I cannot tell you. Nor how oftenthey speak of him, and try to let their hearts conceive of the glorywhich surrounds him, and dwell on the day when they will be called, oneafter another, to share the same glory; for this is the ambition of morethan half of them. 

Now, in that sentence is unveiled the most curious part of my curiousstory; and that it is curious, I frankly admit. It is no made-up affair. I am not responsible for the strangeness of it. You are to remember that"truth is stranger than fiction, " and then to understand that I amtelling you the truth. It is, then, a fact, that these young men haveeach received conditional appointments to serve in the palace, high inpower and splendor and dignity. The conditions are that they are to bewilling to be guided in all things by the will of their King, whom theyeach admit to be wise above all wisdom, and to be kind above all theirconceptions of kindness. It is true that nine of the number haveaccepted their appointments, donned their uniform, assumed theirpositions as He has directed, and are waiting for the summons to appearin person at court. It is also true that the others are still in a stateof indecision; they do not know whether to accept the appointment ornot. It is true that they feel themselves honored; that they believethis to be the only path of honorable and safe promotion. It is truethat they have full faith in those who will tell with joy, that, havingenlisted, they find the service even in this ante-room sweet, and therewards great. It is true that they severally visited Mark, just as thedoor was opening to admit him to the palace, and heard him speak of theglimpses of its glory, and heard that his last words before he went awaywere, "Oh, mine eyes see the King in his beauty!" and that his voice wasjubilant as that of a conqueror, and his face radiant as with areflection of unseen glory; and yet they hesitate, and dally with thecall, and mean, some time, to have such an inheritance deeded to them, but not now! Remember, I am not responsible for this. Were I writingfiction I should hesitate to set down such idiotic folly, expecting youto call it unnatural or absurdly overdrawn; but I do solemnly declare toyou that this is fact. Account for the folly of their behavior as bestyou can. 

Well, Sallie and her father are left behind. But, mind you, they are notamong the doubtful ones. They both as much expect to serve at court asthey expect to live through all eternity. But while they wait they arebusy. They have moved from the alley; the surroundings were not such asthey liked. Did you notice that bit of a house landing modestly backfrom the road, at the further corner of those ample grounds thatsurround the South End Church? It is the sexton's house, and thatchurch, and those Sunday-school rooms, and those grounds, and everythingpertaining to them, are under his care. The father is the sexton, it istrue, and attends the furnace and rings the bell; but it is Sallie'scare that keeps seat and desk and window so beautifully free from dustor stain. Oh, they live busy lives, and happy ones. Sallie trusted notin vain in her father's promise that night, when he put his weak willinto the pledge; but you are to understand that it was but a few daysthereafter when he planted his weak and wavering feet on the Rock ofAges. Then did Satan angle for him in vain. 

So, on this Monday evening, there were but seventeen at the gathering. Ihesitate over what to name the gathering. I would call it a party, butthat in many respects it was so totally different from anything withwhich you are probably acquainted by that name. 

The young man who stands by the door of the conservatory, eagerlydescribing to Miss Henderson a rare and curious flower, which has beensent to Mrs. Roberts from California, is "black Dirk. " Really, I hopeyou are sufficiently astonished; for he looks so utterly unlike thescamp who used to be the special torment of the South End Mission that Ishould be disappointed if you were not impressed by it. "Mr. Colson"almost everybody calls him now. The name has long since lost itsstrangeness. He is in the employ of the great firm of Bostwick, Smythe, Roberts & Co. , and although Mr. Roberts has never found it convenient todo so before, there were reasons why he thought it would be well to havea clerk within call; so Mr. Colson boards with what was the juniorpartner of the firm. He is so no more, by the way, for Mr. Ried has beenreceived as a member, and is decidedly a junior partner. Probably Mr. Roberts could tell you, if he chose, why one so young, and withoutcapital, had been elected to partnership; but, as a rule, he keeps hisown counsel, only remarking that the young man developed remarkablebusiness faculties which were patent to the whole firm. To his wife hesaid:--

"I tell you, Flossy, I believe a consecrated life will be honored by theLord, in whatever channel he gives it talents to develop. 'Whatsoever hedoth shall prosper. ' That young man is going to have a career inbusiness. I shouldn't be surprised if the Master meant him to show theworld how a Christian can use money to his glory. "

It is early yet to prophesy what Mr. Colson will do. Doubtless he willbe a merchant; certainly he will be a Christian; possibly he will be anorator, of whom the world will yet hear, --a temperance orator, forinstance. I know you would like to hear him read a poem. He is notconfined to Will Carleton's style now, though he still reads with powersome of those inimitable delineations of life; but Gracie Dennis offersno more criticisms when he reads. In fact, I have heard her defer tohim, when a question arose, as one who had probably studied the passage, and caught its best. I am willing to confess that my poor black Dirk wasa bit of a genius. The thought I desire you to catch is that so many ofthose poor fellows, who of necessity live by their wits in the cityslums, are diamonds which could be fitted to shine. You take a diamondand throw it down in the dirt and filth, and put your foot on it andgrind it in, and leave it there, sinking and soiling, day after day, year after year, and when somebody comes along and picks it out, howmuch will it gleam for him at first? Yet the diamond is there. 

"Thou shalt be a royal diadem in the hand of thy God. " Mrs. Roberts hadbeen at work hunting diamonds for His diadem. 

As Mr. Colson stood there chatting freely with Miss Henderson, there wasnothing about the association that looked incongruous, neither did itoccur to any. There was not a trace of embarrassment about this boy fromthe slums; he had forgotten the slums, and stood talking with one of thearistocrats of the city. 

How came she to talk with him, to allow herself to be entertained byhim? Let me tell you: thereby hangs a tale. Some time before thisevening--in fact, nearly two years before--Mrs. Roberts had come to apuzzle, and stood and looked at it doubtfully. Then she presented it tothe others:--

"They are growing easy in their manners with me, learning to begentlemanly without embarrassment, and thoughtful over little thingswithout being ashamed of it; but I am afraid that with other ladies theywould be sadly frightened and awkward. When Mrs. Delaney came in thisevening I could but notice how utterly silent Mr. Colton became; he hadbeen talking well before. It seems as though there was a great gulfbetween them and social advancement. How can we bridge it?"

Then young Ried ventured his thought:--"My sister Ester had a class inthe Center Street Sabbath-school--nice little girls, who wore prettydresses, and had their hair curled, and came from the best families. After she was taken sick, she told me one of her regrets was that shehad not stayed well long enough to try a plan which she had. She meantto take a class of rough little boys in the mission-school, and shemeant to ask the mothers of the little girls to let them come, once amonth, and play with the little boys from the streets--she to play withthem, and watch over them every moment; but to try to interest the girlsin teaching the boys gentleness and good manners. I don't know how itwould have worked. Ester was never well enough to undertake it; norcould she seem to enlist any one else in such service. It has graveobjections, I suppose; but I have always thought that I should like tosee something of the kind carefully tried. "

Mrs. Roberts, before this little story was half-concluded, had turnedthose eager eyes of hers on the speaker--eyes that always had a peculiarlight in them whenever her soul took in a new suggestion. 

"Thank you, " she said. "I see, oh! a great many things. I ought to havecalled in that dear sister Ester to help on this phase of the questionbefore. It has always seemed to me as though we were doing her work. "

CHAPTER XXXI. 

"THEIR WORKS DO FOLLOW THEM"

That was the beginning of a new effort. There were certain young ladiesbecoming well-known to Mrs. Roberts, by reason of a similarity of tasteswhich drew them to her. 

She sat down one day and wrote out their names with great care on hertablets. 

Miss Henderson's name headed the list. She was one of the aristocrats. Iuse the word in its highest sense. The accidents of wealth and positionwere hers; at least, that is the way we talk, though I suppose we allbelieve that the Lord is the giver of both, and will require an accountof the same at our hands. 

If this be so, Miss Henderson will be more ready than some with herrendering; for she is of royal blood, and guards well the honor of theChristian name she bears. 

Without hesitation, Miss Henderson headed the list. The others werechosen more slowly; ten of them, picked soldiers, to do special duty "inHis name. "

It required much explanation, much care to plan wisely. 

But the girls caught at the idea. 

In the course of weeks they formed a band, with Miss Henderson forpresident. Ostensibly they were a literary society; really they werediamond polishers. 

They met one evening by invitation, with Mrs. Roberts, and made theacquaintance of the "Monday Club. " They sang for them, read for them, heard them read; chatted with them on the various topics of the hour, the last lecture of the course, which all had attended; a certain bookcarefully read and criticised by Mr. And Mrs. Roberts and Dr. Everett inthe Monday Club, --not so carefully read by the young ladies; therefore, it came to pass that they were somewhat worsted in an argumentconcerning it, which was bad neither for the young ladies nor the MondayClub. 

Finally, they were taken out to supper by these young men, who had sofar come under Mrs. Robert's' influence that they were willing to enduretorture for the sake of pleasing her. 

It is a long story. I could write another book about it just as well asnot. 

The main difficulty would be that the critics would pronounce the storyoverdrawn. They always do when one revels in facts. It is only when anauthor keeps within the range of sober fiction that he may feelcomparatively safe from this charge. 

These young ladies represented other parlors and other dining-rooms. They arranged for little graceful entertainments, to which the MondayClub was invited. Gradually others were invited too--good, solid men, and wise-hearted, motherly women. The invitations were select, the"polishers" were chosen with care; but it was surprising to theseworkers to find how large the Christian world is, and how many stoodready to help if they were shown love. 

"It is one of the best suggestions that that dear Ester has given us. "This Mrs. Roberts said one evening when the Young Ladies' Band and theMonday Club combined their forces and gave an entertainment to some ofthe best people on the avenue. 

I have given you hints of how they did it. They were every oneChristians, these young ladies; none others were chosen. They workedwith a single aim in view--His glory. They took no step that was notpaved with prayer. Do you need to be told that they succeeded?

This was one of the reasons why Mr. Colson chatted with Miss Hendersonwith perfect freedom, and why his bow was graceful and easy when sheintroduced him to her friend Miss Fanshawe, of Philadelphia. He wasaccustomed to being introduced to her friends. 

I'm sure I hope you wish I would tell you somewhat of Mart Colson. Ifyou are not deeply interested in her I am disappointed in you. She hasbeen such an object of interest to me since that time when I caught aglimpse of her once through the cellar-window, with a gleam of sunsetmaking her hair into gold. 

It is a summer evening of which I tell you, and she is all inwhite--except her eyes; nothing can be bluer than they are to-night, --and except the flowers about her. She is always among the flowers. 

I hesitate, after all, to tell you about Mart. Hers is one of thosestories hard to tell. Besides, her friend and patron has suffered muchcriticism because of her, and though Mrs. Roberts does not care in theleast, I find that I am sensitive. 

"Has she really kept that Colson girl with her all these years?" Yes, she has. I speak it meekly, but she has! "And never had her learn atrade, or work in a factory, or learn to support herself in any way?"She has never sent her anywhere to learn a trade or to work in a factoryor to stand behind a counter. It is too true. 

No, I was almost sure you did not approve of it. But, for all that, Idon't mean to argue Mrs. Roberts' cause. "To her own Master she standethor falleth. "

Not but what Mrs. Roberts has argued, on occasion, --with Gracie Dennis, for instance, who paid her a few weeks' visit, less than three monthsafter she first went home. 

"Flossy, " she would say, "what are you going to do--with the girl? Doyou really mean to keep her here?"

"She has no mother, my child, nor father; and her brother is not able tocare for her yet. Where would you have me send her?"

"Why, Flossy, there are places. "

"Yes, my dear, I know it, and this is one of them. "

"Well, but she ought to be learning things. How is she going to supportherself?"

"She is studying arithmetic with me, you know, and writing and readingwith the dining-room girls; and I am teaching her music, and Mr. Robertsproposes to have her join the history class as soon as she issufficiently advanced in the more common studies. "

"But, Flossy Shipley, that is great nonsense! You know what I mean. Youcannot turn the world upside down in that fashion, or make an orphanasylum of your house or a charity school. "

"My dear, do you really think the house is in danger? Does it look likean orphan asylum or feel like a charity school?"

Then would Gracie Dennis laugh, but look a trifle vexed, nevertheless, and mutter that people couldn't do things that way in this world. 

Then would Flossy be ready with her gentle drops of oil to soothe theruffles. 

"Gracie, dear, I am not trying to reform the world. There are a greatmany girls left destitute I know, and I will do at wholesale all I canfor them; but this one is peculiar. You have admitted that it wasunusual to see such dangerous beauty, and she is unusual in her mentaldevelopment. She could be fierce and wicked; she is ignorant and bitterabout many things; I am afraid for her. I have not been able to think ofa place where the Lord Jesus would have me take her. I must see to itthat _He_ is pleased, you know, at all hazards. If He does not meanus to keep her in the shelter of our home for the present, we do notknow what He means. 

"We cannot 'mother' the whole race: He has not even suggested it to ourhearts. He has simply said, 'Here, take this one; there is room for her;keep her until I plainly tell you that her place is elsewhere. ' Gracie, would you have me tell Him we cannot?"

By this time Gracie would be humble and sweet. 

"It is very good of you, " she would say, meekly, "and I was not thinkingof such a thing as finding fault. I was only wondering whether--whether--well, you know--whether such a life as she is leading in your house wouldnot unfit her for her proper sphere?"

But a sentence like that was always liable to put little Mrs. Roberts onall the dignity she possessed. Her husband had ideas on that subject, and had imbued her with them. Her voice could even sound almost haughtyas she said:--

"As to that, Gracie, we must remember that the 'sphere' of an Americanwoman is the one that she can fill acceptably in God's sight. He maycall her to the highest; I don't know. Since she is the daughter of aKing, there may be no spot on His footstool too high for His intentionsconcerning her. "

There was outside criticism, of course. Indeed, Mrs. Roberts wassufficiently peculiar in many respects to call for much criticism fromthe world. They talked much about "that girl" she had picked up. Gradually they said "that Colson girl"; then one day some daughterasked, "Is she really a sister of that handsome Mr. Colson in thestore?" And by-and-by there were some who spoke of her as "MattieColson. " That was the name which Mrs. Roberts always called her. Itbegan gradually to be known also that "Mattie Colson" knew a great dealwhich was worth knowing. Three years of companionship with a lady likeMrs. Roberts, and such as she gathers about her, can do much for a girlwho wishes much done for her. 

As to "earning her living, " I am not sure but she was learning to do itin several ways. Mrs. Roberts struggled against all false ideas of life, therefore taught her none. 

She was not the cook, but she could, and had on occasion, served up amost enjoyable breakfast. 

She was not the second-girl, yet her fingers were undeniably skilful inthe arrangement of rooms and tables. She was not the sewing-girl, yetconstant were the calls on fingers that had become wise in thesedirections. She was by no means the nurse, yet there was a littlegolden-haired "Flossy" in the sunny room upstairs whose devoted slaveshe was, and whose mother felt that Mattie's loving, watchful care overher darling was only second to her own, and was so to be relied upon, byday and night, as to repay tenfold whatever she might have done for thegirl. 

In fact, it would perhaps be difficult to define "Mart" Colon's positionin the house. Yet she was, as I said, becoming known among the youngladies outside as "Mattie Colson, that handsome young Colson's sister;as pretty as a doll, and a _protégé_ of that lovely Mrs. Roberts, you know. " As for the Young Ladies' Band, --I do not include them when Italk of the girls "outside, "--what they had done for Mattie Colson shecould not have told you though she tried, her eyes shining with tears. 

The days had come wherein the very matrons who had said that it was astrange thing for Mrs. Roberts to take a girl from the slums into herfamily--that it was "tempting Providence to attempt such violentwrenches"--now said one to another, that "it must be a great relief toMrs. Roberts to have that Mattie Colson always at her elbow to see thateverything about the home was just as it should be;" and they added, with a sigh, that "some people were very fortunate. "

Now, dear critic, you stand all ready to say that this is a very nice_paper_ story, but that in actual life attempts at doing good donot result so smoothly; that to be "natural, " Mrs. Roberts ought, atleast, to have tried in vain to reclaim half of her boys. 

It is true, I have said nothing to you about two or three whom she hasnot as yet reached, though she is still trying. My story was not ofthem, but of the twenty whom she _did_ reach. Concerning yourverdict, there are two things that I want to say: First, go into thework, and give the time and patience and faith and prayer that Mrs. Roberts and her fellow-workers gave, before you decide that it is vain. 

And secondly, will you kindly remember that, whether this be natural ornot, it is true?

I do not think I have told you the immediate occasion of this particulargathering. It was, in fact, a reception given to Mrs. Ried. It is notlikely that I need tell you at this late day that her name was _GracieDennis_ Ried. I could have told you much about it, had I been writinga story of that sort. 

In fact, there is a chance for considerable romancing. There are mattersof interest that I might tell you, about "Mr. Colson" himself, young ashe is; and about Mattie, who wears to-night a rose that she did not pickfrom the conservatory; but I don't mean to tell it. 

I have just one other bit of history to give you. They stood togetherfor a moment--the young bridegroom and the lady with whom he hadfaithfully worked ever since that rainy afternoon in which he hadconfided his gloom to her. 

Both were looking at the two young men who stood near the piano, waitingto join in the chorus. Both had known these young men as "Nimble Dick"and "Black Dirk. "

Still another of the original seven stood in the immediate vicinity. Theglances of the two workers took them all in; then they looked at eachother, and smiled meaningly. 

"I have been thinking of that first Sunday afternoon, " said Mrs. Roberts. "I asked them to pick up my handkerchief, which had dropped, and 'Nimble Dick' said, 'Pick it up yourself, mum! you're as able to aswe be!' I wonder if they would remember it? What if I should tell them!"

As she spoke the bit of cambric in her hand designedly dropped almost atthe feet of Dirk Colson. He stooped for it instantly, but "Nimble Dick"was too quick for him, and presented it to the owner with a gracefulbow, and a slightly triumphant smile. 

But the chorus was commencing, and the bass and tenor were at onceabsorbed in their work; so Mr. Ried and Mrs. Roberts had the memoriallaugh all to themselves. None but they understood what the whitehandkerchief said. 

Despite the laughter there was a suspicious mist in Mr. Ried's eyes. 

"How far is mirth removed from tears?" he asked his hostess. And then:"Do you know, when I look at these young men, moving about your rooms attheir ease, really ornaments to society, and think of the places in theworld that they will be likely to fill, and think of what they were whenyou first saw them, the overwhelming contrast brings the tears!"

Said Mrs. Roberts:--

"I will tell you something that will do your heart good. 

"Did you know that our young lady helpers had reorganized in largerforce, and with certain fixed lines of work, which they feel certainthey can do?

"The effort has passed out of the realm of mere experiment. 

"They have chosen a name. They are henceforth to be known as THE ESTERRIED BAND. 

"They came to me for a motto to hang in their rooms, below the name; andI gave them this:--

"'And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me. Write. Blessed are thedead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, thatthey may rest from their labors: and their works do follow them. '"