ehold.
Whenever I arose in the morning feeling sentimental, something was sure
to happen. The afternoon of this day was the appointed time for the
"roof-raising festival" of Jane's hospital. Three o'clock was the hour
set to begin the ceremonies, but early morning found Jane and Zura as
busy collecting books, bundles and a folding baby-organ, as if moving
day had fallen upon the household. Neither one of my companions seemed
depressed by the happenings of the night before, or else they were
determined that every other thought should be put aside till the roof
was safely over the dream of Jane's life. Jinrickishas piled high with
baskets of refreshments and decorations moved gaily down the street.
Jane and Zura, laughing like two schoolgirls and as irrepressible,
headed the little procession.

I waved them good luck and went back to my work and my thoughts. I was
interrupted by a note that came from Page in answer to one of mine,
saying a slight fever would prevent his accepting the invitation to go
with me to the exercises in the afternoon, but he hoped to see us at the
house later in the evening. Of course he meant us in general, Zura
particularly, and it might be fever or it might be other things that
kept him away from Jane's tea party. I was going to know in either case
as soon as I could get Page Hanaford by himself. Right or wrong I would
help him all I could, but know I must and would. I simply could not live
through another day of anxiety.

If Page told me his trouble, there was no reason why it would fade away,
and my anxiety cease to be, but having made up my mind to act
definitely, my spirits rose like a clay pigeon released by a spring.

That afternoon, at the time appointed for the ceremony, when I turned
from Flying Sparrow Street into Tube Rose Lane a strange sight met my
eyes. It was clean. For once in the history of the Quarter poverty and
crime had taken a bath and were indulging in an open holiday. It had
gone still farther. From the lowliest hut of straw and plaster to the
little better house of the chief criminal, cheap, but very gay
decorations fluttered in honor of the coming hospital. The people stood
about in small groups. The many kimonos, well patched in varied colors,
lent a touch of brilliancy to the sordid alleyway, haunted with ghosts
of men and women, dead to all things spiritual.

Here and there policemen strolled, always in pairs. Whenever they drew
near, and until they were past, t