rit of the Naughty Poor in the room; there was
laughter, as of the registered, in the ears of the Registrar. It is not
really permissible for the Naughty Poor to invade offices which exist to
do them good. The way of charity lies through suspicion, but the
suspicion of course must be all on one side. We have to judge the
criminal unheard; if we called him as a witness in his case we might
become sentimental. The Charity Society may be imagined as keeping two
lists of crimes, a short one for Registrars and Workers, and a very long
one for the registered. High on the list of crimes possible to
Registrars and Workers is Sentimentality. It is sentimental to feel
personal affection for a Case, or to give a child of the Naughty Poor a
penny without full enquiry, or to say "A-goo" to a grey pensive baby
eating dirt on the pavement, or to acknowledge the right of a Case to
ask questions sometimes instead of answering them, or to disapprove of
spying and tale-bearing, or to believe any statement made by any one
without an assured income, or to quote any part of the New Testament, or
in fact to confuse in any way the ideas of charity and love. Christ,
who, by the way, unfortunately omitted to join any reputable
philanthropic society, commanded seekers of salvation to be poor and to
despise themselves. But this was sentimental, and the Charity Society
decrees that only the prosperous and the self-respectful shall deserve a
hearing.

"I am sentimental," said Sarah Brown to her Dog David in a broken voice.
She turned again to her enchanted sandwich.

There was increased laughter in the air, and through it she heard the
hoarse and happy shouting of the sparrows in the spring-coloured tree
opposite. Sparrows are the ideal Naughty Poor, the begging friars, the
gypsies of the air, they claim alms as a right and as a seal of
friendship; with their mouths full of your crumbs they share with you
their innocent and vulgar wit, they give you in return no I.O.U., and no
particulars for your case-paper. When they have got from you all that
you will give, they wink and giggle and shake the dust of your
window-sill from off their feet.

Sarah Brown opened the office window, and the air of the office began at
once to dance with life and the noise of children and birds. She thought
perhaps these were magic noises, for she heard them so clearly. She
broke her second sandwich upon the window-sill, and the sparrows crossed
the street and stood on