aken to a doctor?" she asked.

Mrs. Volsky answered more quickly than she usually answered questions.

"When she was first sick, years ago," she told Rose-Marie, "she had a
doctor then. He say--no help fer her. Las' year Ella, she took Lily by a
free clinic. But the doctors, there, they say Lily never get no better.
And if there comes another doctor to our door, now--" she shrugged; and
her shrug seemed to indicate the uselessness of all doctors.

Rose-Marie, with suddenly misting eyes, lifted Lily to her knee... "The
only times," she said slowly, "when I feel any doubt in my mind of the
Divine Plan--are the times when I see little children, who have never
done anything at all wicked or wrong, bearing pain and suffering and..."
she broke off.

Mrs. Volsky answered, as she almost always answered, with a
mechanical question.

"What say?" she murmured dully.

Rose-Marie eyed her over the top of Lily's golden head. After all, she
told herself, in the case of Mrs. Volsky she could see the point of Dr.
Blanchard's assertion! She had known many animals who apparently were
quicker to reason, who apparently had more enthusiasm and ambition, than
Mrs. Volsky. She looked at the dingy apron, the unkempt hair, the sagging
flesh upon the gray cheeks. And she was conscious suddenly of a feeling
of revulsion. She fought it back savagely.

"Christ," she told herself, "never turned away from people because they
were dirty, or ugly, or stupid. Christ loved everybody--no matter how low
they were. He would have loved Mrs. Volsky."

It was curious how it gave her strength--that reflection--strength to
look straight at the woman in front of her, and to smile.

"Why," she asked, and the smile became brighter as she asked it, "why
don't you try to fix your hair more neatly, Mrs. Volsky? And why don't
you wear fresh aprons, and keep the flat cleaner? Why don't you try to
make your children's home more pleasant for them?"

Mrs. Volsky did not resent the suggestion as some other women might have
done. Mrs. Volsky had reached the point where she no longer resented
even blows.

"I uster try--onct," she said tonelessly, "but it ain't no good, no more.
Ella an' Bennie an' Jim don' care. An' Pa--he musses up th' flat whenever
he comes inter it. An' Lily can't see how it looks. So what's th' use?"

It was a surprisingly long speech for Mrs. Volsky. And some of it showed
a certain reasoning power. Rose-Marie told herself, in all fairness,
t