h of
their holiness, to whom this mortification, with all the rust flakes in
bosom and kerchief, would have been salutary and wholesome. But that
she, Sister Ursula, who only desired a quiet life, should climb
fire-escapes in the face of the shameless sun and a watching population!
It was too terrible. None the less she did not come down.

[Illustration: "SISTER URSULA LOOKED DOWN."]

Praying to be delivered from evil thoughts, praying that the swinging
bottle would not smash itself against the iron ladders, she toiled on.
The second and third flats were empty, and she heard a murmur in the
street; a hum of encouraging tumult, cheerful outcries bidding her go
up higher, and crisp enquiries as to whether this were the end of the
performance. Her Saint--she that had not prevailed against the
Nuns--would not help Sister Ursula, and it came over her, as cold water
slides down the spine, that at her journey's end she would have
to--go--through--the window. There is no vestibule, portico, or
robing-room at the upper end of a fire-escape. It is designed for such
as move in a hurry, unstudious of the graces, being for the most part
not over-dressed, and yet seeking publicity--that publicity which came
to Sister Ursula unsought. She must go through that window in order to
give her invalid his medicine. Her head must go first, and her feet, and
the bursten shoe, must go last. It was the very breaking point in the
strain, and here her saint, mistaking the needs of the case, sent her a
companion. Her head was level with the window of the fourth story, and
she was rejoicing to find that that also was empty when the door opened,
and there entered a man something elderly, of prominent figure, and
dressed according to the most rigid canons laid down for afternoon
visits. He was millions of leagues removed from Sister Ursula's
world--this person with the tall silk hat, the long frock-coat, the
light grey trousers, the tiny yellow buttonhole rose, and the marvellous
puffed cravat anchored about with black pearl-headed pins--but an
imperative need for justification was upon her. Her own mission, the
absolute rightness of her own mission, were so clear to herself that she
never doubted anyone might misunderstand when she pointed upwards to the
skies, and the flat above.

[Illustration: "SANK PANTING AT THE FOOT OF THE BED."]

The man, who was in the act of laying his tall hat absently upon the
table, looked up as the shadow took the li