"I know, dearie, but--there's the telephone! Oh, I do hope they don't
want you!"

Carmen answered the call, and returned with the announcement that
Haynerd was in distress. "Sidney Ames is--not there," she said. "He
was to report a meeting. Mr. Haynerd wanted Lewis. Now don't worry,
dearest; I--I won't go alone."

The girl had taken her coat and hat. A moment later she gave the
Beaubien a kiss, and hurried out into the night. In half an hour she
stood at Haynerd's desk.

"What are we going to do?" moaned that perturbed individual. "Here I
am, tied down, depending on Sid, and he's drunk!"

"Well, I'm here. What's the assignment?"

Haynerd looked up at her, and hesitated. "Mass meeting, over on the
East Side. Here's the address," taking up a slip of paper. "Open
meeting, I'm told; but I suspect it's an I. W. W. affair. Hello!" he
said, replying to a telephone call. "What's that? The Ames mills at
Avon closed down this afternoon? What's reason? Oh, all right. Call me
in an hour."

He hung up the receiver and turned to Carmen. "That's what this
meeting is about," he said significantly. "Four thousand hands
suddenly thrown out at the Avon mills. Dead of winter, too!"

Sidney Ames slouched into the editor's office and sank heavily into a
chair. Haynerd gave a despairing gesture. "Look here," he said, in
sudden desperation, "that fellow's got to be sobered up, now! Or
else--"

Another call came, this time from the Beaubien. Father Waite had just
come in. Could he take the assignment? Haynerd eagerly gave the
address over the 'phone, and bade him start at once.

"Now," he said, nodding at Carmen, and jerking his thumb over his
shoulder toward the intoxicated reporter, "it's up to you."

Carmen rose at once and went to the lad. "Come, Sidney," she said,
taking his hand.

The boy roused dully, and shuffled stupidly after the girl into her
own little office.

Carmen switched on the lights and closed the door. Then she went to
the limp, emaciated form crumpled up in a chair, and sat down beside
it.

"Sidney," she said, taking his hand, "there is but one habit--the
habit of righteousness. That is the habit that you are going to wear
now."

Outside, the typewriters clicked, the telephones tinkled, and the
linotypes snapped. There were quick orders; men came and went
hurriedly; but there was no noise, no confusion. Haynerd toiled like a
beaver; but his whole heart was in his work. He had found his niche.
Carme